#tis lighthearted jest | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gryffindors-weasley · 4 years ago

Text

Always

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Draco finds himself on thin ice with his father, he still can’t seem to keep from you.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: angst, secret relationship, poor parental relationship, stress/anxiety about the future, fluff, kissing

A/N: Flash back is in italics. This is an alternate version of my fic here !

The divination classroom. It has always been amongst your favorites. It was far more contrasting to the others, consisting simply of stone walls and arched ceilings, wooden desks and frosted windows. The room of divination was full of mismatched tapestries draping in ruffles from the walls in bursting colors, equally so in the various sizes cushions and chairs with rugs to match. A handful of intricately patterned ceiling fixtures hung down, tassels dangling from them. It was warm and it was welcoming in comparison to the cold and darker rooms.

“Why is it that we’re coming here?” Draco asks with a sigh, trailing behind you as you ascend the last few steps of the winding spiral staircase.

You turn to him with a grin and a raised brow, a look he soon returned as he grasped your hand in his own. “I think we could do with a change of scenery after all. I’m growing rather tired of the astronomy tower, love.”

“What’s wrong with the astronomy tower?” He scoffs in faux offense, his brows furrowing as you tugged him along with you into the vacant room as he looks over his shoulder once more.

“It’s far too cold and cloudy to go up there tonight. Besides, this is one of my favorite rooms in the whole castle if you must know. You will survive just this once, Draco,” you jest lightheartedly, releasing his hand to skip ahead of him as he groaned at your sudden absence and he had no choice but to follow you. Though he felt he’d follow you anywhere, really.

“And if I don’t?” He calls after you just to be difficult, pinching a piece of red velvet fabric between his fingers before his eyes roam back to you.

You turn on your heel and purse your lips at him, narrowing your gaze as you fight your smile. You shake your head as he holds your stare just the same, his head tilting and eyes squinting as he challenged you and you readily gave up on suppressing your grin for a moment longer.

“You didn’t have to join me if this is not to your taste, you know,” you say, and he rolls his eyes as he tugs you close to him by a gentle grip on your hand. “You’re more than welcome to leave, but I have a feeling you’d miss me too much if you did.”

He silenced your very logical words with a kiss, your laughter dwindling as you relaxed against him. His kiss was soft and tender as he hummed against your lips, his hand coming to brush your hair behind your ear as his lips moved from your own to sweep across your cheek. They linger just under your jaw before pressing chastely under your ear, his nose brushing over your skin.

“Must you always pick on me, darling?” He murmurs, his breath tickling against the shell of your ear.

Your soft laughter starts up again at his words, pulling his attention back to your gaze as he pulls back to look at you. You rest your hands on his chest, your fingers splaying across the black fabric of his button up and smoothing over his matching tie. “Yes, I think I must.”

With that, you turned away from him and left his loose embrace much to his dismay, twirling once in the center of the room with open arms. He watched as you smiled contently, your eyes falling closed as you tip your head back and bask in the peace that came with nightfall. In the enchantment of the room. For it was the time where you could love one another as freely as you’d like, for as many hours as the moon remained in the deep navy sky. He wanted desperately to love you in the light of day, without fear of prying eyes and listening ears. But you knew why things were the way they were.

He watched the way the moonlight danced across your skin, glowing against your effortless beauty as it shines in your hair. It left him wondering how someone so perfect could love someone so flawed. He found himself to be an anchor tied to you at times, his mistakes and current standing in the wizarding world something he felt kept you from thriving the way he knew you would, the way you deserved. You already were, far more than he could say for himself.

You radiate warmth and kindness, something he so desperately craved and found he could not keep himself from. To him, you were the embodiment of sunshine and he felt he was quite the opposite, rather bringing storms and rain. Yet still, you chose to love him in spite of it. He felt guilty, really. For having a father who made you feel like your relationship was in jeopardy without ever having the displeasure of meeting the man. For not being able to love you as fully and openly as he so desired.

“Are you going to join me or are you going to stare all night?” You quip, breaking him from his pestering thoughts.

His gaze flickered from the vacant spot you once stood in to where you sat on purple velvet cushioned stool. You smiled as the crystal sphere flowed before you and a grin of his own tugged at the corner of his mouth. He took a seat on the small crimson stool right next to you, finding himself a bit too tall for such a small seating arrangement but he decided against complaining.

The sphere before you contained a fog-like haze that swirled around much like the clouds just beyond the windows.

“Just what are we doing?” He asks, an amused smirk on his lips as he raised a brow.

“You’ve claimed yourself to be the best at telling the future what was it, four years ago? Surely you must be an expert on such a thing now, Dray,” you say, laughing at his scrunched nose and the way he gripped your stool and tugged you closer with one swift pull. “Tell me, what will our future be in five years’ time?”

He chuckles, shaking his head fondly as he looked from the crystal to you. “That’s quite simple, I don’t need some silly crystal to tell me that.”

You raise your brow in amused curiosity. “Tell you what?”

He looks at you attentively, his smirk softening to an adoring smile. “That I’ll love you as long as you’ll have me, and even more.”

You nearly rolled your eyes at his sappy words, but you found them too sentimental and the look on his face far too endearing to do so. That and you couldn’t ignore the heat in your cheeks from such a declaration. But you also didn’t have it in you to miss an opportunity to tease him.

“I love you, very much I do. But I have a sneaking suspicion you don’t know how to use that thing, Love,” You jest, and he rolls his eyes as he fights his smile.

“I’m convinced you love to torment me,” he frowns, unable to sustain it with the way you’re giggling at him.

Despite the lighthearted moment, he finds he can’t enjoy it fully with the worry weighing heavy on his mind. Your question was merely playful, but it had been one that frequented his thoughts far more than he cared to ever admit, more than he ever will admit. In a perfect world, he would have felt confident with the idea of loving you for the rest of his life. Would have felt rather excited for your future together because he loved you entirely too much for his own good. But it was hard to indulge in thinking of such dreams when there were things in particular pressing down on his shoulders.

That one night in particular, to be specific, he would never forget that.

Draco stood at the end of the vacant corridor, palms pressed flat to the cold surface of the window sill as he peered through the latticed glass. The commotion from the ball had been more than enough with just the thirty minutes he’d spent in the large ballroom housed at the opposite end of the long hallway. Even with the distance from the boisterous event it was still just as nauseating—his ears ringing with the clinking of glass and goblets, with the shrill laughter seeping into the space he wished would alleviate his tension. But alas, it did not.

The dusty air in the Manor had not done him any bit of good, not even a shred. His mind was far busier than any overly lavish event his parents could throw, racing from one thought to the next in an endless loop. He grew rather tired of pretending to be interested in any of the meaningless conversations he was subjected to, tired of standing along the same gray wall in the shadows in hopes they’d leave him alone. He could do that perfectly well now that the only company was himself.

The moonlight had trickled in through the windows in broken beams, illuminating every fleck of dust that had been floating around him, casting him in a small pool of light. He knew staying in there a moment longer simply wouldn’t be feasible, he’d go mad. Besides, he was far too distracted with more important matters, so much so he hadn’t wanted it to draw attention to himself. He had been far too distracted by you.

As he looked out over the garden it was inevitable that that had been where his mind would shift to. To each and every night you spent hand in hand within it, or the more than numerous kisses you shared tucked away behind decades old oak trees and crumbling statues. It reminds him of the way your hair glimmers in that very moonlight and just how your eyes sparkle. It reminds him how just how much he wanted to be with you in that very moment; he always found he’d rather be with you.

Fancy ballroom events had never held his interest very much, and the more they occurred the less that interest remained. Especially with the way thing seemed to be spiraling as his seventh year continues to break apart. The attendees only ever wanted to talk to him because he was the Malfoy heir, not because they cared to converse with him and how he was doing, but because they wanted to talk about he who he refuses to give the satisfaction of naming. He didn’t want to talk about things most undesirable, there was more to him than slytherin title, than to be a Malfoy. There was more to him than what he could use his social standing for. He knew that, you knew that.

He wanted so desperately to leave the bleak and endless maze of that manor. To part from that grand window and to be somewhere else, anywhere, with you. He wanted to—

“Draco,” a voice sounded behind him. A voice he’d rather not hear. His father. He squeezed his eyes shut in preparation for conversation. “Have you grown bored?”

The tone he held was not one of curiosity, he genuinely did not care less about whether or not he had been bored. He did not care about very much when it came to his son, his only child. For no reasons other than selfish ones, anyway.

Draco laughed bitterly to himself, his back still turned to his father. “Yeah, you could say that.”

It was quiet, save for the lingering notes of the piano and endless chatter that filtered out into the corridor. The silence from his father was near painful, and he’d be lying if he said his heart hadn’t begun to pound more vigorously against his chest. The absence in conversation was starting to make him nervous with each passing second, and he was beginning to think he’d left altogether. No, it would not be that easy.

“You seem rather distracted, Draco,” he states after a few agonizing moments, and his heart squeezes in his chest at the familiar sense of knowing woven around each word. He swallows thickly as he fixes his stare down on the windowsill. “Is something on your mind? Or someone, perhaps.”

He wants desperately to take a deep breath as panic settles thickly within him, but that would be far too obvious an indication that his assumptions were, in fact, correct. His mind races a mile a minute, however, and he finds himself scrambling to think of an answer.

“No, there is not, father. I’m just not in the mood for discussing luxuries with any of your friends,” he responds, tone sharp and defensive.

He hears a humorless chuckle sound closer behind him, a sound accompanied by the click of his walking stick. Lucius had his suspicions of you, ever since he’d noticed his son’s newfound distraction, newfound stubbornness to follow his rules. It had only further been confirmed by the smile his son seemed to be caught wearing when he thinks no one is watching. He knew it and he hated it.

Draco felt paralyzed in his spot, unable to form an excuse to leave this very situation. He was tense and increasingly bothered by the threatening presence behind him. He was unsure if there would be repercussions of his displeased counter at his question, hadn’t known just what to expect. Hadn’t known until he felt the hand of his father grab firmly to the back of his neck, cold and calloused fingers pressing to his skin just inches from his shoulders. He flinched at the sudden and startling action, breath hitching in his throat as he brows furrow in a wince.

“Listen closely, my dear son,” he muttered venomously in his ear. “I don’t know what it is you’re up to, but that girl of yours, the one distracting you from your orders—I will not tolerate it.”

He gulped at his father’s words, and he was quite sure he could hear the rhythmic and incessant pounding of his heart in the close proximity. His hands had begun to shake as they gripped tighter on the ledge of the windowsill. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The grip on his neck tightens a fraction. “You reek of her perfume, do not tell me you do not know what I’m talking about,” he says through gritted teeth. “You have me mistaken for a fool, Draco. Deal with it, or I will.”

His threatening words are accompanied by a brief shake to emphasize them, jolting him slightly before his harsh grip is released and his footsteps diminish. He was left to stand there alone once more, angry and afraid as his nostrils flare with his sharp inhale and his jaw tensed, eyes lining with tears. His lip quivered under the pressure to suppress it, knuckles turning white under his tightening fists. He knew of you.

“Draco?” The mere softness of your tone pulls him from his distracted trance, that and the way your hand settled on his cheek. “Are you alright?”

His hand comes to rest over your own as he looks at you and leans into your touch without second thought, his blue gaze flickering between your own. He simply nods, his thumb brushing gingerly over your skin as he smiles softly, assuringly. “I’m fine, darling.”

Your returning smile makes his heart flutter within his chest, though he knows that you knew him far better to believe that. But you don’t push it.

When you start speaking he doesn’t entirely know what you were saying in that very moment, for he was much more focused on the way your lips moved with every word, every syllable. On the way your lashes splay against the tops of your flushed cheeks each and every time you look down at that wondrous crystal ball. Or the way your hand pulled from his cheek to rest over his own, playing absentmindedly with the silver slytherin ring worn on his finger. He didn’t particularly like that piece of jewelry, but he only wore it for that habit of yours.

You were so enamoring in everything you had done and he’s sure that will remain true, so utterly spellbinding he feels as though he never stood a chance. You were far more enchanting than the very magic the two of you had known your whole lives, and he knew that to be factual.

“Remember when you—”

His lips had pressed on yours before you could finish your sentence, his hand slipping from under yours to rest warmly upon your cheek. The soft bout of laughter puffed against his lips was enough to let loose a flurry of butterflies within him, a feeling only you have ever caused even with just a mere glance in his direction. The tension in his body dissipated the more he kissed you, the worry dissolving from his mind in that very moment.

When he parted from you he’d thought better of it as he kissed you once, twice, three more times. His lips were pink and kiss swollen, chunks of messy platinum dipping down in his eyes as he gazed at you adoringly. You kissed him again, fleeting and sweet, and it left him smiling softly as his fingertips brushed over his lips. The action made your cheeks stain a deeper scarlet as you looked away momentarily, but you couldn’t help but to return your gaze to him.

“What was that all about?” You ask in playful amusement, still breathless and blissfully awestruck from the burst of affection.

He laughs at that, because you too were delightful and dizzying, and he can’t seem to hide that fact. He dips down and does so again, this time a mere featherlight kiss, his eyes fluttering closed as he relishes in the soft intimacy passing him by. One he does not want to end.

“Just because,” he whispers.

You reach up and smooth the worry creasing between dark brows, your fingers brushing under the hair falling over his forehead and tracing down his cheek. You smiled at the seemingly silverness of his hair in the moonlit glow, the pale blue of his eyes something else entirely.

You rest your forehead on his, noses bumping and laughter mingling before fading into soft smiles. “I love you, always.”

His smile widens a fraction at your words, sincere and true. It makes his heart pound in his chest and his cheeks stain the softest shade of pink as his lips ghost over yours, brushing together with every word. “I love you, always.”

He might not have paid too much mind to that crystal ball for fear of the outcome he felt couldn’t possibly be what he’d dreamt of. He might not have allowed himself to ponder too long on what awaits him for the future for himself, for himself with you. For if he had, he just might’ve seen that life hadn’t intended to be quite as cruel to him as he’d been thinking. Maybe if he gave it a chance he’d see his fate hadn’t been so terrible in the end. But for now, for right now he was content with setting those thoughts aside in favor of kissing you in the moonlight behind vibrant and mismatched curtains. He was content with disregarding his father’s absurd wishes, they did not matter.

He loved you now and he loved you always.

—

Tags: @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq @dracosathenaeum @snitches-at-dawn @harrysweasleys @awritingtree @anchoeritic @writeroutoftime @lunalovecroft

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fic #draco x you

252 notes · View notes

crescentchat · 4 years ago

Text

on Sandwiches and Shells (Lunar Chronicles Fanfiction)

Jacin was everything to Winter. The blue in her veins, the space between her hollow bones, the warm color in both her irises.

But Jacin was also a dork.

Winter and Thorne both agreed on this. ----

An exploration of Winter & Thorne friendship, and Jacin & Cress. Also a deep dive into the fate of the shells after the revolution!

Finished:07-28-2021

Words:1861

Jacin was everything to Winter. The blue in her veins, the space between her hollow bones, the warm color in both her irises.

But Jacin was also a dork.

Winter and Thorne both agreed on this.

And with two sandwiches and a bench in a glass hallway near the ship docks, they discussed it at length.

“Then he threatened to duel me! Dueling- ” Thorne had said, bug-eyed, one cheek filled with bread. “Do Lunars duel? Is that a custom?”

The princess giggled. “Public lashings were common”

He was silent for a moment as he swallowed the rest of his lunch. “Those still aren’t legal, right?”

“No, I don’t think Cinder would let it be. She might make an exception for you maybe.”

The brunet threw his head back and laughed. “Now you’re sassy? I can’t escape it since Cinder and Scarlet started rubbing off on Cress!”

“Perhaps I learned it from Jacin,” Winter added, taking a small bite from her zesty sandwich. “He had been sentenced to public lashing one time.”

Winter smiled at the memory, not because of the gore of seeing the love of her life tied and beaten, but the things he had said to her that night. The side of him that no one else was allowed to see (but everyone knew was there because he was not good at hiding it), a man that would do anything, anything for her.

“Huh. Wish I was there.” Thorne added.

In the comfortable silence, her eyes went to a grand, marble door nearby. If Jacin were here right now, he would be standing statuesque next to it. And since Thorne was here with her, he would probably be standing even closer. Winter would offer him food, and he would decline, Thorne would have something witty to say about it, and Jacin would make a threat of violence with a deadpan face.

“Where’s your loverboy, anyways?”

“He accompanied your Cress to a shell rehabilitation meeting. Do you want to eat the rest of this?”

“Pickles? No way. And what do you mean shell rehabilitation meeting ? She’s already in therapy,” Thorne added skeptically, brushing the crumbs off his lap and standing up.

“No, no. It’s for the friends that were rescued from the labs.”

Thorne nodded and made an ‘O’ shape with his lips. “To reintroduce them into normal society? Well, as normal as moon people can be, ” he added, muttering the last part.

Shells had very limited education (being a thaumaturge telling them an intimidating version of what reproduction was like, effectively scaring them away from it), but they had made their own versions of interaction before they were put in cryo-sleep.

The shells that couldn’t find their previous families, or families that wouldn’t take them back, were offered jobs in the Artemisian palace. Winter was very fond of all of them. They would say very strange things to the aristocrats, ask the most awkward questions at the most horrible times, but they were Winter’s people .

Despite effectively being a war hero, many still thought Winter was crazy, including her close friends. But apart from Jacin, the shells were the only ones in the palace who were too different for others to swallow, swimming in their heads too often. Like she was. They understood.

Many had dreams of moving the Earth, and maybe being normal on Earth meant losing your peculiarity.

But this couldn’t be true. Cress was raised in a drastically different way than the other shells, but she was still just as weird and wistful as them.

“The friends, they really admire her,” Winter said after a moment. “They told me that Sybil Mira had taken her away one day. They were very envious because they thought she was going to the palace to be freed, but Sybil told them that she was killed instead.”

Thorne nodded. “Yeah, I remember that at the banquet. Like, all of them were sobbing. Kind of touchy, too.”

“They don’t know much better, though,” Winter said, dusting her dress off and standing as well once her sandwich was finished.

“Hence the rehabilitation!” He said proudly, already at the door holding it open. “Let’s go supervise.”

__________________________________

Jacin had made a promise to Cress, a very long time ago. That promise was that her safety would come only second to Winter’s.

But sometimes he wondered, What was he willing to put up with for her?

He already dealt with shells and their lack of personal space and emotional boundaries at the palace, but here, there were about a hund of them all in this one conference room in South Artemisia.

Despite Jacin placing himself far away from the others and staying silent, that didn’t stop people from coming up to him and asking, asking, asking, asking-

“Why are your arms so big?” A pale, redheaded teenager asked.

“I exercise.”

“What pertains to exercise?”

“Pushups.”

“What’s a pushup?”

Jacin rolled his eyes to the sky. “Look it up. You have a portscreen, don’t you?”

The boy, Wane, scoffed. “Portscreens are so blue . I see enough blue on the faces of others.”

He fought another eye-roll, but only because the statement reminded him of something whimsical Winter might say. “I’m sure someone else can show you.”

Wane nodded nonchalantly, thanked him, and ambled away.

This queued Jacin to turn his attention to Cress, who was swiping through her portscreen, and being swarmed by a group of shell women. She looked a little flustered, but not overwhelmed by the attention.

He discreetly made his way over to the crowd and cut through so he was right behind Cress.

Ah.

He should have guessed by the squeals and giggles from the shell girls that Cress was showing them pictures of the Captain. One picture was him carrying an antidote crate, concentration etched in his eyes. Cress swiped through her photo gallery again, showing a picture of him fascinatingly watching a romantic net drama (one he claimed to hate, by the way).

“Ahem,” Jacin coughed.

The blonde turned around swiftly, as did the shells.

The shell girls hugged him immediately, all greeting him. He just about pushed them off in shock until Cress shot him a knowing yet weary smile reminding him that they don’t know much about personal space.

Wasn’t she supposed to be mentoring them on that instead of showing them pictures of her boyfriend? Jacin coughed again. “Hello, everyone. I need a word with the shortcake.”

“Hey!” A brunette yelped. “That’s mean. Crescent is short and lovely and not a cake! ”

“Ah, Callista. He’s not being mean. It’s lighthearted, a nickname.” Cress said, gently pulling her away from Jacin. By now the rest of the shells had gone somewhere else, off to another counselor to ask a thousand questions.

“No, Cress is a nickname because it is short for Crescent Moon. But shortcake has nothing to do with Crescent Moon.”

Cress sighed, “Okay, so-”

Jacin tuned it out, waiting for her to be done. Why did they ask her to explain these things when she could barely explain it herself?

It brought him to another time when a shell woman came up to Cress and kissed her on the mouth like they had been casually dating for years.

Thorne had jumped out of his chair, and when Cress was done being shocked, she stuttered, “Why did you do that?”

“Because I love you!” She exclaimed happily.

“You do not love her, you’ve known her for two days!” Thorne had interjected.

“Of course I love her. She is a hero to all our shell friends and saved us all!”

“I am a friend, then, but you don’t- you can’t kiss people! On the face like that!” Cress swallowed.

She had placed her fingers on her chin like she was deeply considering this. “Yes, yes. Interesting. Thank you for letting me know.”

Cress’ mildly sarcastic cough brought him back to the present. “What did you need?”

“I think it’s about time we go back to the palace.”

“Aww, why? I was having so much fun,” She whined.

“Having fun showing off Thorne?”

There was a comedic silence, before she said, “Yeah.”

Jacin rolled his eyes for maybe the hundredth time, but this time only in jest.

Cress feigned an offended gasp, and swatted at him lightly, standing up from her chair. “You would show off Winter too if put in the position!”

“She would show herself off.” He said, stopping by a door while Cress waved goodbye to the shells.

“Thorne probably would too,” She said, finally closing the door and cracking her fingers. “But I’m just getting the word out he’s mine.”

Jacin almost snorted at the sudden and unexpected possessiveness of her statement. “Sometimes I wonder if he forgets he’s yours.”

She thoughtfully shook her head. “No, it’s a lot like Winter. Kind of.”

Jacin raised his eyebrow.

“Well, like, Winter attracts people by existing, you know? She can’t help it.”

That was very true. She could swish her hair once, and twirl in her dress twice maybe, and get just about anything she wanted. But still, “Thorne can definitely help it though.”

Their footsteps echoed off the grand hallway, chatter from the shell meeting all but gone. “Maybe. I don’t know.” There was a hint of doubt in her voice.

Jacin, out of fear he offended her, added, “Not that I think he’s unfaithful. He’s obsessed with you, really.”

“In a romantic way?”

Jacin nodded.

The flush that was on her face earlier came back. “W-well, Winter’s obsessed with you!”

He decided they were far away enough for anyone to hear, so he indulged himself in a laugh. “I know, I know.”

__________________________________

“Hello, Squire Clay!” Thorne bellowed as he strutted through the ship docks, Winter trailing behind, sandwich in hand.

Cress could hear Jacin’s eye roll (he was doing a lot of those today).

“Hey you,” Thorne greeted her, voice softer and looping an arm around her waist.

“Apologies I told him about your squireship status,” Winter hooked an arm around his neck and pecked his cheek.

“Does this mean you’re a knight now or something? What’s the surname for knights-” the Captain snapped his fingers, trying to call up the knowledge. “Your Holiness?”

“I think it’s just sire,” Cress said.

Thorne purred, “Medieval knowledge. Nice. How’d it go, sire?”

Jacin held up a hand. “Don’t do that,” he grumbled as Winter snorted. “It went fine. We left early because you two have somewhere to be.” He pointed to the other couple.

Captain looked down at her with wide eyes, looking for an answer. “Ah, the outbreak in the United Kingdom. Almost forgot about that.” She said.

“Of course! In the Canadian province. How could I forget?” Thorne chirped as if he knew the whole time.

“Well, I didn’t forget. The vaccines have already been loaded into the Rampion.” The platinum blonde said, signaling to the crates in the cargo bay.

Thorne hummed. “Guess it’s time to go, then.”

“Thank you, Jacin,” Cress smiled at him, and he smiled back.

“Have fun with your Trouble, Jacin!” He yelled from the Rampion, as the ramp closed.

He scoffed, for again, probably the hundredth time that day.

__________________________________

Finally finished! I promised this you be finished a week ago, but I lied hehe. Thank you for @gingerale2017 for cheerleading me on! I’m really proud of this. please support on AO3!

#the lunar chronicles #lunar chronicles #tlc #marissa meyer #winter x jacin #wincin #jacinter #winter hayle blackburn #jacin clay #carswell thorne #cress darnel #crescent moon darnel #cresswell #fluff #fanfiction #reblog please #writer

34 notes · View notes

feuglace · 4 years ago

Text

@referentblood said: "what do you mean..... by chainsaw?" u little unhinged genius

---

“I’m glad you asked!” Stephanivien announced, disappearing behind the counter within the Skysteel Manufactory. With a huff, he hoisted up the machine he had recently constructed - not entirely complete but in working order - and dropped it with a heavy thump upon the surface between them. His smile was wide, teeth flashing and eyes flickering with excitement. He dusted off his hands, planting them on his hips and jutting forward his chest in a show of pride.

“This is a chainsaw!” He reached again for the device, gripping a handle on the side to lift it once more from the counter and pointing it to the side - to be safe, of course. “Hit this little button here aaaaannnddd...” The device roared to life, hooked bladed swinging around a belt with all manner of noise and threat of violence. Stephan’s eyes lit up; it truly did work! He laughed, the sound entirely lighthearted as if merely at a jest. “’Tis meant as an extra measure of defense of course! Now I just have to find a way to make it more compact, perhaps easier to carry... Or summon.” He hummed, flicking the switch again and, as the chainsaw quieted and its blades stopped revolving, placed it down once more. His eyes lingered upon the device, head tilting.

“Though I do believe it will be reserved for veteran machinists. I’d hate to have a new recruit hurt themselves trying to wield it, too dangerous for novices. I can trust others to wield it graciously, however, and hopefully it will provide ample support in battle on the off chance one is faced too close with an opponent. Of course - that is if you deem it satisfactory?” He cleared his throat, glancing away as his face soon took on a tinge of red. It was common for him to assume and only realize the intricacies later, and just in that moment he had realized perhaps he’d need approval from one in the House to allow such a deadly device to be used.

#referentblood #❝ — within the eye - mysteries of the soul burn deeply beneath the fiery chasm of love and patiently wait for an awakening ( stephan );#stephan vc: makes decisions without asking the higher ups if he can do the thing-

3 notes · View notes

yeleltaan · 4 years ago

Note

describe how your muse's perfect "everyday" day would be like

It’s worth noting that for Cayin, the experience of a day includes the entire night. He doesn’t follow the common practice of going to bed to wake up rested the next day, and is quite active throughout those dark hours. This doesn’t mean that he never rests: while the full “laying down with closed eyes” act is extremely rare for him, he’ll stop to sit down or stand against a wall and dwell in his thoughts for a while, also probably rest his eyes for some minutes, maybe even an hour or more. Another alternative is spending weeks without really sleeping or stopping for more than an instant, only to eventually retreat from the plane humans inhabit to somewhere far and quiet, in the comfort of shadows. His perfect day would probably involve some moments to relax, not fully dropping activity or attention but just having a little while to sit down and plan out what he’ll do next.

Since we're talking an "everyday" day, a significant portion of it is going to be spent working. How much is unclear, because there really isn't a defined line separating leisure from duty for him a lot of the time. So much of it involves spying and investigating, and that doesn't always imply carefully considered manipulations or the exciting risk of sneaking around undetected, a relatively normal day enjoyed in peace and with people he enjoys being around can perfectly be a job well done. He will take some walks on his own to observe the local area, perhaps learn more about a person's background in a way that doesn't seem intrusive, but allowing himself to be briefly distracted with whatever catches his curiosity.

Cayin’s love for the human ability to create in an artistic sense is no secret. He views these things with a sense of amazement. Characters, stories, worlds! Such creativity, such a passion for their craft, be it performed humbly or in an ostentatious way. A perfect day must give him time to indulge in these things, regardless of whether it’s in the middle of a more particular mission or a simple encounter by chance in his spare time.

As mentioned numerous times, theatre is his favorite of all the arts. The human ability to get into character, to recreate the emotions, adopt someone else’s story and recreate life in such a way. He’s sincerely fond of it and will sometimes go out of his way to watch a play even if it serves no practical purpose to him at that moment. It’s also one of the few arts he actually participates in, often in playful lighthearted jest, but sometimes within a sinister context too.

This ties with his fancy for social events of different sorts. One of his favorite things to do in his job is entering one of these social affairs and speak to the guests, including those of special interest to his task. Sometimes he’ll adopt a false identity, most often he’ll go halfway through and be mostly true to himself- but developing some sort of narrative as to how he’s found himself there. Even when none of that is involved there’s still a bit of a performance... to just pretend to be fully and simply human for a time.

And of course, nothing beats time spent with a friend. Preferably relaxed and filled with insightful conversations and shared stories, and perhaps a bit of silly fun sprinkled in-between. A rather messy, mildly dangerous activity that wasn’t predicted at all can make for an enjoyable time, too.

So in the end, he has a preference for a mostly relaxed day, in which he can take a nice long walk and take a closer look at some part of the local culture, then some kind of interesting change of pace in the form of a social event or specific place where he can do some fruitful research, some pretending and meet as well as learn more about a few faces. Learning is a necessary part of a good day, too- oh, and perhaps a little time spent with some reptile (younger siblings!) or a member of the cult outside their duties. And to end the day, a good amount of time spent with a friend, or many.

The more serious, at times brutal side of his work is no dealbreaker. Things are simply much less likely to take an unpleasant turn when it’s not present.

#1 out of 3 let's gooooo #thanks for the ask Gio!#this one took me a while to tackle but it's done ^^#headcanon

2 notes · View notes

umbralsound-xiv · 5 years ago

Photo

“It’s been quite some time since i’ve proper opportunity to catch up with Tsaivarod. Of course, we see eachother in house, but rare it is that we’ve actually had time to sit and catch up.

We decided to in the bath, over wine. Tis the advantage of having a shared space for it.

Before aught else, i showed her my... Worsening affliction. I couldn’t much hide it given the setting, and thought it best to get that out of the way afore anything else. I didn’t want to dwell on it. Twelve knows i’ve done that enough over the last few suns. I’d sooner talk about anything else, than that.

I also informed her of... Y’vhala’s return. She had an offer to kill him if need be, but i feel that having such a thing stolen from me a second time would not bring me any peace. I wonder for G’rallin’s thoughts on the matter? Would he care for delivering the killing blow?

Ugh, listen to me. Does it truly matter, so long as the bastard dies? The hows and why’s of it, we’ll figure out later. But this time, i’ll make sure.

Things were a little lighthearted after that. Tsaivarod took to massaging the knots out of my shoulders, which i was much appreciative for; being an archer herself, she knows where they tend to accumulate.

She mentioned Daidukul - the man she’s been fawning after - was quite the masseuse himself. I’ve not seen him about in some time, and almost thought she might have forgotten him. It’s strange, to hear her speak of much regard for any man out of the bedroom.

Still. Prime topic for playful teasing. She knows i mean it only in jest.

...Most of the time. But then... What are friends for?”

#Muse: [Bexy]#Chapter: [Bitter Truths]#FFXIV #IC #Screenshot #Writing #Musing

6 notes · View notes

seriouslyhooked · 7 years ago

Text

Lost Souls and Reveries (Part 3)

18 part AU written for @cssns. Part 1, Part 2. Story available on AO3 Here and FF Here. Banner created by the amazingly talented @shipsxahoy!!

Killian Jones is a wolf shifter without roots, without plans, and without a pack. He’s a rogue, someone humans should avoid and shifters should be wary of given his lineage. But one night years back set him on a path he didn’t realize he was taking, a path leading to a future he is destined for. That future is tied up in one woman – a human named Emma Nolan. Together Emma and Killian will find not only answers, but a love that’s truly fated. But will love be enough to set them free, or will past demons win out in the end? (Answer: love always wins – I am writing this so despite some tiny pockets of angst it’s basically a fluff-filled insta-love fest). Rated M.

A/N: All right friends so this is another chapter that has a hard flashback, and honestly, since it’s from Killian’s past, it’s going to be more difficult for some of you than last chapter. For my most lighthearted readers, I want to give you the chance to avoid it because there is a lot of emotion, and mentions of violence. I didn’t tag it as graphic violence because it’s not super descriptive, but just want to warn people as it might be triggering. The flashback scene is in italics (though I also use italics in the scene after because there is a phone call). You can skip the flashback if you so choose and just ask me for the reader’s digest version (as some of you did last week) and then take comfort in the fluff that comes out after. For the rest of you who like the angst, or who torture yourselves with it already outside of my stories, I hope you will enjoy. That being said I appreciate you all so much for reading and I would love to hear what you guys think!

Pacing through the yard that surrounded his cabin in the woods, Killian couldn’t help but feel like all control was slipping away from him.

Since the moment he’d first seen Emma, there was an undeniable spark and a sudden awareness he was not used to. Never in his life had he reacted like this to someone, but despite the deeper instincts that told him that she was his true mate, it took really meeting her and feeling her skin against his to know beyond the shadow of a doubt that they were meant to be.

In any other situation, a shifter would be joyous on this day. To find one’s true mate was a gift that nature itself brought every shifter soul. Finding one’s other half was fated, written into the very fabric of a shifter’s being. As such, there were few in their community who went through life without eventually finding their someone. But Killian was a lone wolf now, and he’d put aside any ideas of a life with a partner to love and protect. He’d grown confortable in the solitude and he was well acquainted with the silence. Even in moments of weakness, when he’d felt how lonely his life had truly become, Killian never imagined this would be his destiny. He never could have conceived of this; that the girl he crossed paths with all those years ago – the girl he still thought of more than he should – would find her way back to him and that she would be the one.

For one thing, Emma was a human and that presented huge problems, the biggest being that this pull he felt and this intrinsic knowledge that she was the one might not be reciprocated. Killian wasn’t sure what Emma was feeling. Sure he saw that their attraction was mutual, and he could scent her desire when she’d been nestled in his arms yesterday, but he could hardly believe that he mattered as much to her as she did to him. Being his true mate meant that Emma was now his whole world, the best part of his life, the happiness shifters were promised and that he couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to have.

Even if Emma felt that way in return, those feelings would likely scare her senseless. Humans, after all, had no such fated customs. Oh they had concepts of ‘true love’ or ‘love at first sight,’ and of course they had well matched pairs who undoubtedly belonged together, but it wasn’t the same. The ties that bound shifter mates were unbreakable, the bond so strong it could never fade away. When mates came together as one it was a literal infusion of two souls. It was more than love in so many ways, and Killian was slightly terrified he’d give away all that emotion if he were to see her again.

Normally there would be no question of whether a shifter would seek out their destined pair, but for Killian things were different. Despite the fact that there was no denying Emma was his, Killian didn’t know if it was right to pursue her. His wolf was determined that there would be no life worth having without Emma in it, and in his heart Killian felt the same, but rationally he had to think this through. He hardly lived a life of constant safety. There was a reason he moved every few months and that he looked over his shoulder more than the average person. Was it right to bring someone into that? Yes, she was his mate, but would she want to be? If Emma had free will, if she wasn’t bogged down with the instinct that told them to be together, would Emma choose him? Could he even ask her to?

Unconsciously his hand rose to touch the space upon his chest where Emma had first collided with him yesterday, and though it was covered with the thin cotton of his well worn t-shirt, Killian knew what lay beneath. There was a mark there now, a swirled kind of insignia – the one that represented his shifter bloodline. It was an ancient symbol that might appear to be a tan tattoo to the untrained eye, and it was just more proof that Killian and Emma belonged together. Somewhere on her body Emma would have a similar shape where his hands first touched her, and Killian had spent all the moments of the morning when he wasn’t battling with himself trying to think of where he’d left it. It all happened so fast that he couldn’t be sure. The only thing he knew for certain was that he had a deep seeded need to see it again and to mark her more in other ways.

Wherever his imprint had landed, Emma’s mark on him was even more significant than it otherwise would have been. It was remarkable that she was his one and that she’d left a part of her with him to be sure, but in the process she’d also ended up healing a very old scar, one left as a bitter memory of the worst night of his life...

“Oi, you fuckin wankers! Get off the bloody street!”

The yell from an older bloke out his window into the busy London night might have been offensive to anyone else, but Killian took comfort in the grumpy, caustic ways of some of his fellow neighbors. It was a lost cause to be yelling at any passersby right now. The rugby match against Liverpool had let out only a few hours before and there were hours yet to be spent at the pubs for the fans. A loss might have garnered the people in this borough a quieter night, but as it was there was celebration to be had, and, as such, very little quiet.

“Well good evening to you too, mate,” Liam joked loud enough for the man to hear, pulling a laugh from Killian. “God we live among a load of batty people. Think it’s a human thing?”

Killian shrugged as he continued to chuckle at Liam’s feigned censure. It wasn’t a very common thing for Liam to give in to a good mood, but tonight Killian had enjoyed watching his brother relax. Liam worked too hard trying to help their Mum and Killian, and finally, after months of not giving himself any kind of break, their mother had had enough. She’d hemmed and hawed about how Liam was twenty-four years old. He should be out in the world, enjoying his life, making mistakes and learning from them, but that wasn’t Liam’s style. Killian knew it had already taken a lot for Liam just to go to one rugby game, and he didn’t imagine there would be more of such excursions anytime soon.

“Mum’s going to be disappointed, you know,” Killian said as they left the busier area of the bar district and headed back towards home. “I think she was half hoping you’d get me drunk and we’d roll in at four in the morning.”

“That was never going to happen,” Liam stated resolutely and Killian sighed, shaking his head.

“Of course not brother, because heaven forbid you break a rule.”

Killian wished those words had been more clearly said in jest than how he relayed them. It was true that Liam was more uptight than most people – many had even gone so far as to call him stuffy and repressed – but even if he didn’t like it, Killian knew there was a reason. Ten years had passed since they left their old life behind, but for Liam the memories of the existence they once led were far stronger than they were for Killian. All the same, Killian just didn’t understand why Liam allowed himself to be so affected. There had been no sign of their father or fellow pack-mates since they left, and they’d done everything magically possible to block the pack bond that would allow their father to track them, but Liam was still ever-vigilant. He took the protector role so seriously, and in every other aspect of his life he held himself to the same high standard. It was admirable, but honestly it was also exhausting and a bit alienating. It was difficult for Killian to feel truly close to Liam because of it, and Killian had often felt like he lacked the honor Liam embodied because following the letter of the law didn’t come so naturally to him.

“Rules exist for a reason, Killian. You’d -,”

“Do well to remember that, I know I know,” Killian said on an exhale. It wasn’t worth getting into a row with Liam about it. They just saw the world differently, that was what Mum always said. She also said that was perfectly okay – the world needed differences of opinion, and their family was better for having them.

“Things will change for you in a few months. When your first phase comes, you’ll understand the gravity of the situation. With secrets like the ones we carry, rules become a blessing.”

Liam had been feeding Killian the same line since Killian was thirteen and first started rebelling against some of the expectations in his life. On the first full moon after his eighteenth birthday, he would make the final connection with his wolf and he’d be able to shift for the first time. When that happened, Liam believed Killian’s restlessness would fade and his temperament would grow milder, but Killian doubted that. He’d been dreaming of the day he’d finally come of age since he was old enough to understand what he was. He couldn’t wait to roam – to run free as the animal within. When that day came he wouldn’t crave restriction and guidelines as his brother seemed to think. He would finally know what it was to live, and he wouldn’t limit himself, not for one damn moment.

“If you say so, broth-,”

Before Killian could get the word out, Liam’s arm shot out in a signal for Killian to stop and go quiet. This was something his brother had done hundreds of times in their youth, but there had never been reason for it since they came to England. The sense of foreboding that crept over Killian was sharp and uneasy, and then he caught the scent – another shifter was nearby, and the smell was sickeningly familiar. Their father was here – he’d found them.

“Mum,” Killian whispered and before Liam could stop him he broke into a sprint, running the rest of the way to their home. He’d never moved so quickly in his life but his body wasn’t his own. When he made it to the house his heart dropped – the front door was broken open but the lights were all out. Killian’s blood ran cold but he stepped forward only to have Liam hold him back.

“Killian, no. You stay behind me. You understand?”

Killian must have given some indication that he would listen as Liam led the way, and as they moved into their once safe and serene home, Killian felt like he was walking through a nightmare. The house was trashed, with no corner left untarnished. It was obvious that no human had done this and evidence of animal activity was all over the place. Claw marks bore into the walls, bite marks marred furniture and trinkets along the way, and their mother’s delicate, pastel décor lay broken and shattered on the floor.

The further inside that they moved, the more Killian’s dread increased. The house was still now. There was no sound, no sensible living presence anywhere that he could sense, so by the time they made it to the kitchen and found the scene of their father’s final crime, Killian was devastated but not exactly surprised.

Things from there were simultaneously hazy and crystal clear. One second grief washed over him and just as quickly he felt like he was being ripped apart at the seems. Somehow the trauma of what awaited them detonated Killian’s shifter instinct before it was time, and as he crumbled to the ground he transformed from boy to wolf. Once in that state his mind was wracked with the sharpest sense of pain and this all-consuming fear. He was completely out of control and all he could think was that he had to run. He had to get out of there. He’d find his father and he’d kill him for killing her. But before Killian could make it much farther than the front door he was tackled to the ground by another wolf.

Killian, you have to stop! his brother pushed in his mind, but Killian didn’t know how. He felt totally consumed by his animal and he had no idea how to do this. Liam had only told him the most rudimentary things about shifting, he hadn’t even really started his preparations and he had no ability to tame the instincts that were driving his world right now. You’ll expose us if you keep going!

Killian didn’t give a damn if the whole bloody world knew what he was. What did that matter when their mother was gone? What did anything matter? All that mattered was avenging her death. She couldn’t die without justice. She couldn’t have been hurt that way and their father go free, but where Killian had an unyielding need to fight, Liam was still stronger.

I don’t want to hurt you, Killian, Liam said at one point when the fight was already lost. Liam held Killian down in a stance where he couldn’t break free, but still Killian struggled. He fought and he fought, and just as he was about to let out a howl of pure frustration Liam’s paws dug in further. His claws pierced skin where they lay just above his lungs and Killian let out a low whine. The physical pain was terrible, but it was the only thing that proved enough to break the spell he was under. One second he was a wolf and the next he was back to himself, though his chest was bleeding from where Liam had punctured skin.

“I’m sorry,” Liam said, his face white as a sheet after he shifted back. He’d looked shell-shocked when they found their Mum, but now he was even more disturbed. “I’m so so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I –,”

“She’s gone,” Killian whispered, ignoring his brother and the blood that spilled from his wound. “She’s dead. He … he killed her.”

“Killian, we have to clean you up. You’re in shock right now but I hurt you badly.”

“We have to kill him,” Killian said, ignoring Liam’s point. “You know that don’t you? He has to die for this.”

“Killian -,”

“I’m going to kill him, Liam!” Killian yelled, the mania of the moment having not faded in the slightest. “I’m going to kill him for taking her like this. I don’t care about your rules – I don’t care about pack law – I’m going to find him and I’m going to end him.”

“We both will,” Liam whispered, and though the promise was soft, Killian knew it was honest. “But not tonight, Killian.”

“But we have to -,” Before Killian could continue Liam interrupted, his voice stronger now and his tone absolute.

“You want to take on our father, brother? You need to learn how. He’s the alpha of the strongest pack in the Americas and he didn’t get that way by luck. He’s animal first, barely a man anymore, and he’s got skills you couldn’t dream of yet. I promise you you’ll get your revenge, but I won’t lead you to your own slaughter. We wait until we know we can beat him, and in the meantime we run. We have to go before he decides to come back and finish the job.” …

The shrill sound of a ringing phone pulled Killian from the memory, and it took him a minute to realize the phone was his. It should have been obvious since he was out here in the woods alone, but he used the damn thing so infrequently that he never got quite used to it. There were only two people in the world who had this number, and as he accepted the call Killian already knew which one would be calling.

“What’s going on, Ruby?” he asked, hoping in spite of himself that his cousin wouldn’t hear the lingering shakiness the memory left behind.

“What’s going on? Seriously, you’re asking me that? You’re the one who found your true mate, Killian! When were you going to tell me?!”

Killian sighed as the fingers of his left hand came to rub at his temples. He loved Ruby as his cousin and his best friend since they were young, but her gifts always seemed to show up when he was least in the mood for them. Without fail Ruby knew when something big was going on with Killian, because that was what happened when your cousin had a father who was shifter and a mother who was a witch – you ended up being the focus of her prophetic, wolfy powers. Usually it was a mild annoyance, but today her added response to the new twist in Killian’s life wasn’t exactly ideal.

“Clearly I didn’t need to.”

“Ugh, Killian! Just because I have visions sometimes does not mean you don’t call me when important stuff happens. You know I’ve waited a whole week for you to call -,”

“A week?” Killian asked, surprised. “I only met her two days ago. You knew I was going to find Emma and you didn’t tell me?”

“Well of course I didn’t tell you. If I did you never would have gone to her. I couldn’t risk that. I mean you’re already questioning it as is, can you imagine if you knew before hand?”

“I never would have come,” Killian confessed, a sense of shame rising in his chest as he did. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but if given the choice back before he’d actually seen Emma again, Killian would have avoided attachment at all cost. Now though he felt sick at even the idea of having never found Emma. Even if he dreaded the darkness he could bring into her life, Killian knew he wanted her and that he always would.

“Exactly. And we couldn’t have that. She’s your perfect match – your mate. You, Mr. ‘I can’t have anyone, I have to go it alone’ have a mate! It’s like a freaking miracle! I swear Granny almost passed out from joy when I told her.”

“She’s human,” Killian said, his mind wandering back over that complication. He’d never heard of any shifter with a human mate. It simply didn’t happen.

“She is?” Ruby asked, surprised. “Huh, I didn’t get that in the vision.”

“Well she is,” Killian said, his heart hammering in his chest just at the thought of Emma’s status. As a human she was weaker, more vulnerable. It scared the shit out of him, and his animal was anxious to go find her again and make sure she was safe. Still he remained where he was, fighting off the urge.

“And you’re what? Disappointed? Seriously?! Who gives a shit if she’s human? She’s your mate!”

Killian remained quiet at Ruby’s outburst. He understood her reaction, really he did. It was something that merited celebration instead of fear. Finding his mate should make him the happiest shifter alive right now, but where he felt that sense of freedom and completion at having found her, he also felt the weight of the unknown. This wasn’t a black and white, cut and dry situation. It had to be handled with care, and he needed to keep his wits about him, as hard as that was.

“Okay, that was bad. I shouldn’t be yelling. You’re anxious about it I get it, and I didn’t call to make things worse,” Ruby asserted, completely undermining everything she’d done since he answered the phone.

“Really? That’s surprising,” Killian responded. Ruby sighed loudly.

“No. Despite what you think, Killy, I called to help you.” Ruby’s use of his nickname when he was just a boy showed the depths of her care for him. All criticism aside, Ruby was very clearly on his team and only wanted the best for him, even if she was more than a little pushy. “I thought you should know that I’ve seen what’s coming.”

“And you’re actually going to tell me what you saw?” Killian asked, curious as to what would prompt Ruby to do that. Usually she was guarded about the glimpses she had into the future, especially distant happenings. For her to confide in Killian was a break from the norm.

“Not everything,” Ruby replied. “But enough so that you know that there is no choice here. You and Emma belong together. In every version of the future I’ve seen it’s you two together in the end. Even if you run right now, the two of you will find your way back to each other, so you might as well just stay and spare yourselves the heartache.”

“You’re serious?” Killian asked, the hope in his voice ringing out clear as day. To hear this assurance from Ruby was a balm he’d so desperately needed, and knowing that no matter what they’d find their way to each other meant that Killian felt free to choose her now even if it didn’t feel fair to burden her with the baggage of his past.

“Mhmm. You’ve found yourself a pretty determined mate, Killian. She’s gonna give you a run for your money.”

She already has, Killian thought to himself, or so he believed. He took it from Ruby’s giggle through the phone that maybe he had actually said those words aloud.

“I can hardly wait for all of this to happen. I haven’t been to a wedding in… well, ever really, and I get to be an Auntie! Well technically a second cousin, but we’re gonna call me an aunt. And there’s going to be a lot of little ones, so -,”

The vision of his future life that Ruby painted stole Killian’s breath away for a moment. He couldn’t put into words just how sweet a dream it was. To think that he and Emma would find all that together brought him hope he’d long since lost. He wanted nothing more in the world than to call her his wife and to cement the bond that mating would provide, even if they knew so little about each other right now. Time would no doubt strengthen this feeling that she was the one, so to think of them sealing their union and starting a family together filled him with a sense of need and want that threatened to wear down all his self-control. But he had to get a grip on himself and on Ruby before she pushed him right over the edge.

“All right Ruby, I get your point. Just… give me some time. Please.”

“You can take all the time you need,” Ruby said happily, knowing she’d won and that he would now stay and try and make this work with Emma. “Just remember, every moment that you wait is one you won’t get back.”

Confident that she’d done her job and pushed Killian back on the path towards his true mate, Ruby said that she had to go and get back to Granny. Killian asked her to say hi for him, and Ruby promised she would, also informing him that she’d be in touch again soon. But as he put the phone away and he moved back outside, Killian’s mind was stuck on that final insight from Ruby about time and the risk of wasting it. Right now he was hesitating about which path to follow towards the future that he wanted, but in doing so he was denying himself precious moments with Emma. He knew that seeing her would make him happy and that being in her light, even if just for a moment, would be worth anything in the world. So why was he still here, wasting away the day when he could be with her, trying to make her see him as he saw her?

With that guiding thought in mind, Killian set out from the cabin and turned on the senses he’d tried dulling through the day. The best part of knowing his mate’s scent now was that tracking her was easy, but with Emma he hardly knew what to expect. He was aware that thanks to her many friends and close-knit family that it was very likely she’d be with other people, making his approach that much harder, but he hoped that somehow he’d time things right to find her alone. He’d take Emma anyway he could get her, but the idea of them having a moment to themselves prompted a swirling sense of rightness in his heart, the one that felt an awful lot like happiness, something he’d gone without for quite a while.

Making his way through town, the faces that passed him were a blur. Everyone was kind, everyone greeted him with a friendly ‘hello’ or ‘how ya doin?’ and Killian did his best to reciprocate, but he couldn’t linger. He couldn’t bear the thought of spending his time mingling, not when he knew he was getting closer and closer to his Emma. By the time he’d made it to the little park where she was, his whole body hummed with anticipation. Then the moment came where he spotted her on an ivory colored bench under a massive willow tree, lost in the pages of a book, and it felt like he’d transcended to a whole new kind of heaven.

Seeing her sitting there, bathed in summer sunlight as her golden hair cascaded over her shoulder, Killian felt like he was seeing Emma for the first time all over again. The intensity of emotion that washed over him just being this close was amazing. It never stopped feeling like the world was alive because of her, and like he was finally awake enough to feel it when he was in her presence once again.

It struck Killian as unbelievable that he’d been able to go on this long without her. Obviously she’d been too young for his wolf to know they were destined for each other back in Boston, but since finding her again he felt the weight of their separation ferociously. Despite what he’d said to Ruby before, about not coming back if he’d known he’d find his mate, Killian knew that choice would have come from pure ignorance. Before arriving in Storybrooke he could never have conceived of someone like Emma, for to know her was to love her and to want her happiness more than anything else in the world.

As if she sensed him staring at her, Emma’s eyes moved up from where they’d been taking in the words upon the pages of her book and immediately found him. The high he felt as she looked at him was heady, but it was made even more powerful when he saw the reaction his appearance prompted. Excitement overcame her, her smile was genuine even if it was shy, and Killian could hear the increase of her heartbeat from here, tapping out the same frenzied, frantic pace that his danced anytime she was near. Every part of her reaction called out to him, and as if he was compelled to move forward, he closed the distance between them until he was right beside her.

“Hey,” she greeted, somehow walking the fine line between cool and collected and slightly timid at the same time.

“Good morning, love. I hope I’m not disturbing you.” Killian tilted his head, motioning towards her book, which he realized was a copy of The Princess Bride.

“No, not at all,” Emma said, motioning for him to sit down. “I’ve read this book a hundred times already.”

“I saw the movie when I was just a lad,” Killian replied with a smile as he took a seat beside her, leaving only an inch between them. Their air around them crackled with energy, and though it was cool for a summer day, Killian felt his temperature rise at his closeness to Emma. “Never got around to reading the book. How do they stack up?”

“They are both brilliant, but I think I like the book the best. Thus the constant rereads.”

“And the bookmark.”

Emma looked down at the marker for her page and a beautiful shade of pink tinted her cheeks. It fascinated Killian to watch for multiple reasons, none more so than the fact that this blush didn’t come from embarrassment. There was nothing to be ashamed about in having a bookmark covered in buttercups, and when she looked back up at him he saw the truth in her eyes. Her flush had come from interest in him and from pleasure. She liked that he knew this tiny detail of her favorite story, and Killian swore to himself right then and there that he’d learn everything that made Emma similarly happy so he could see this look for the rest of his days.

“What can I say? When I like something I go all in.”

“No half-assing it for you, love?”

“Never,” Emma replied with a laugh.

Killian grinned at the easy conversation and the humor in Emma’s voice. She was so exuberant, so full of a light that was infectious, and Killian didn’t think it had anything to do with the fact that they were true mates. This feeling of goodness and serenity was all Emma. Her brilliancy and brightness was organically of her making, and he wanted to revel in it as long as he could. The only problem was Killian had fast become tongue tied, and though he had a million things he’d like to ask her, no words would form.

“You know I was hoping I would see you today,” Emma confessed, not seeming to be bothered by his lack of ability to add more to their conversation. Her admission shocked and delighted him.

“That feeling is entirely mutual, Emma. In fact it’s the reason I’m here.”

“You mean to tell me that you braved town just for me?” Emma asked, teasing him even as her thoughtful green eyes told him she was desperate to know the answer. Instinctively he reached for her hand, taking it in his and the rush that came when their skin made contact almost drove all coherent thoughts from his mind. Nevertheless he pressed on.

“Aye, love, and I would do far more for a moment in your company.”

A minute passed between them, charged with all these words they both left unsaid. Instead his thumb grazed across her wrist and their eyes held. It was the sweetest form of torture, having Emma so close and knowing what this was between them but not being able to act. He had to keep his instincts to go faster tamped down and let Emma lead the way. It was the only way this would ever work.

“It’s the craziest thing…” Emma said as she blinked and shook her head, looking back out to the park for a few seconds before she returned his gaze. “I feel like I know you already but we’ve only just met.”

Her words were intoxicating to Killian as they symbolized that Emma was feeling the same pull between them. She didn’t know what it meant, of course, but it was glorious to hear her put the feelings they shared in such a way. Her bravery astounded him. That she would be so giving and so honest was amazing to him, but he had to be wary of saying too much. If he allowed himself to confess all that he felt she’d likely call him a mad man, or worse, run from him, neither of which he could ever survive.

“Sometimes that’s how it goes,” Killian said lightly. “Or so I’ve been told. I’ve never felt that way myself. Not until you.”

Emma’s smile told him that he’d made the right choice in the end, and he was damn proud that he could bring her any kind of joy. It felt like he was king of the whole bloody world, and he was so drunk off of the pleasure of the moment he failed to notice that they were no longer alone. Despite his usually unbeatable awareness of his surroundings, it took a few seconds for Killian to realize that there were two women standing across the park and watching them closely. He recognized them from his walking about town yesterday, and he believed they were friends of Emma’s. That suspicion was then confirmed when Emma followed his gaze and spied them herself.

“Oh crap. I’m never gonna hear the end of this,” Emma said with a sigh, and though Killian wanted nothing more than to ease her burdens, he knew stepping in would only make things worse.

“Friends of yours?” Killian asked as he reluctantly pulled his hand back from hers, already missing the connection between them.

“The best. But they’ve got that look – I better go talk to them,” Emma said as she grabbed the bag that was at her side and stood up. Killian did the same, wanting to prolong the moment as long as he could. His mind grappled with a way to keep her longer or to secure another time for him to see her as soon as possible. But before he could find an answer, Emma offered one of her own.

“Do you like coffee?” she blurted out, and though it was an innocent question Killian could tell Emma hadn’t actually meant to say it aloud.

“I do,” he responded, intrigued at where this conversation was now going.

“Well the town diner has really good coffee, surprisingly enough. It’s nothing fancy, but…”

“But the best coffee rarely is,” Killian finished and Emma nodded. She looked suddenly flustered, as if she was embarrassed by the fact that she’d been about to ask him on a date. Her eyes flittered between him and her friends in a show of her growing nerves, so Killian stepped in to fill the role he’d been wanting to take on since he found her here. “The thing with coffee though, is it’s all about timing. I defer to your expertise, love. What’s the best time for a coffee in Storybrooke?”

“Eight fifteen,” Emma said with a relieved smile, before she clarified. “In the morning. Not at night.”

“Right then. Well I suppose since we’re both in the know that I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, love.”

“Good,” Emma replied, her lips curling up in a beatific smile that made his heart ache to take her in his arms and whisk her away, friends be damned. Instead though he stayed as he was and watched as she departed with a final goodbye. “See you tomorrow, Killian.”

“Aye. I’ll see you then.”

Post-Note: Hey all – so hopefully you’re still with me and enjoying the story. I know that the flashbacks have been hard, with Emma and Killian both having really difficult moments in their pasts but the backstory actually is important to the present story for CS and the rest of this AU where things from the past will come back at different points. That being said, I’ve promised fluff and I hope that I have delivered. We’ve got a good dose of insta-love and pining here, and though there are interruptions (god I hate those pesky friends sometimes!) it’s that same kind of cuteness I love to write in all my fics. Hope that you guys enjoyed and have a great rest of your weekend!

Tag list (if you’d like to be added just let me know):@jennjenn615 @winterbaby89 @kmomof4 @teamhook@coliferoncer @ultraluckycatnd @resident-of-storybrooke @snarkycaptainswan4 @artistic-writer @allofdafandoms-blog @eastside-divebar @snowbellewells

#captain swan #captain swan au #captain swan fic #cs fic #cs ff #cs fluff #cssns #cs smut #cs au #cs shifter au #emma swan #killian jones #ouat au #captain swan supernatural summer #cs pining #cs angst-lite #lost souls and reveries #lost souls 3

46 notes · View notes

archaeoelysion · 3 years ago

Note

" My darling girl, " Ameliance smile is soft and warm, lined with genuine pride. " How you've grown to such a beautiful young woman, " Though despite her words, she cannot help herself from reaching out, stroking the palm of her hand down the side of Alisaie's face in a gesture of affection. " Now, in your most recent letters, you spoke to me of this other world, this shard and I must admit it all sounds quite fantastical. Will you not share with me the full tale while we have the time to? " / from petrokhelidon / ameliance bc i remember us talking about alisaie sharing her story and talking about tesleen.....

MOM!!

⁘ @petrokhelidon

The full tale. Though her lips had curled into the shadow of a smile, reveling in the affection and pride so freely offered by her mother, Alisaie cannot avoid glancing away at the request. 'Tis not that she wishes to keep secrets, though some details were always kept from her letters recounting her journeys alongside the Scions. Sometimes, it is simply that she cannot find the words to speak of things lodged within her heart, guilt that still feels overwhelming, loss and grief that weight more than mountains.

Alisaie can deal with monsters, no matter how terrifying they may seem to others. What she cannot bear is being powerless to save others.

"Are you sure you wish to listen to that whole tale?" Her own uncertainty is deflected in an attempt at humor. The lighthearted jest does not speak of her feelings; her mind is already back to the First, to everything they fought for, to everything that was lost. To Tesleen, most of all. "I would not wish to cause you undue worry for dangers already in the past."

"And although we have not told you everything... I am certain between my letters and Alphinaud's, you know it is not -- well, happy. Even if we were successful in saving the First in the end."

#petrokhelidon #muse: alisaie { RED MAGE. }#in character: alisaie { OF THE SEVENTH DAWN. }#she only needs a lil nudge and she'll speak 😌 with her mom she will talk

1 note · View note

shanny-tired · 7 years ago

Text

Old Friends

“Maybe I will visit Naz. It has been awhile since I have had her cooking. Farewell, little one.”

The words Shanaris spoke after what she felt was a job well done held true. A few nights passed, and Shanaris was in Moonglade during something of a downpour. Shanaris loved rain, but not when it ended up drenching her hair and ruining what could usually be hours of work. Regardless, she kept moving. Luckily where Naz resided had its own roof-- it was the public shelter for visitors after all. Those who wished to intake the sanctity of Moonglade and see what true peace is like usually end up staying for more than a single day. Since not many wished to enjoy a pleasant nap in a barrow or tree, a longhouse fit for multiple people held furnishings suitable for the spoiled. No doors or windows, everything was open. It meant to still give a natural experience with more modern comforts.

Shanaris strolled on in, not entirely drenched thanks to the canopy that covered a majority of the grove. Naz stood there, cleaning cups. A vibrantly blue troll with signs that dipped into primal natures but still held such a sophisticated sense of self; for a troll at least. It only took a moment for Naz to notice Shanaris. She snapped her head up to catch the elf walking toward her. She smiled, setting the cup down and leaning against the table.

“Shanaris! Ain’t seen ya in awhile. Y’smell different, mon. No more jungle?” Acute senses as ever.

Shanaris shook her head, softly chuckling as she took a seat in front of Naz, resting her hands on her knees. Her head bowed,

“Naz, keen as ever I see. I relocated due to the state of the world. Un’goro is far too close to Silithus, and I am sure we both know how things continue to escalate in such a land.”

Her head shook, as if to shake away such a thought.

“I missed you Naz-- not just for your cooking this time.”

Naz hummed with a grin by the compliment, but such was quick to falter when thoughts returned to the subject that the world was in a state of crisis over.

“Azeroth in hurtin’ Shan. So many of us were killed, or worse, with the Legion attacks. Now with that sword pokin’ out like an orc at the sight o’ meat, and the two factions at it again, there are even fewer around. Moo’s and Trolls be supportin’ the Horde while the elves and fur rugs support the Alliance. Only gonna get worse. ‘Ole teach said there a darkness comin’. Been here to protect Moonglade since I started this path, I ain’t gonna let blue or red try to disrupt what’s been a sacred land for thousands of years.”

With confidence she pounded at her chest. Shanaris’ chuckle was brief from the display given.

“Been practicin’ my skills. I can do some pretty crazy stuff since before the Legion invaded. Cookin’ skills and druid skills. Loa blessed me to be great and damnit I’m gonna. Met a pretty cute dude along that ride. Took awhile to convince ‘im to not be such a pride-baby. ‘Horde this, Horde that’! Stuff is tedious Shan. Still a fighter n’ all, but he been protectin’ Darkspear villages instead of heavy stuff. What about you huh? What’s y’take on all this mon’?”

Shanaris took a breath, amazed that Naz had been so busy in only a few years. In made Shanaris remember that not all took things as slowly as one of her own longevity would. Her hands began to idly fold and braid strands of hair as she spoke.

“I have seen the sword do more than tear the world in two once more. Druids, be they weaker or more susceptible to nature’s cries, grow mad from the pain Azeroth is in. I only hope you and those I know do not involve themselves too deeply with this war. I intend to stay away from it. Pandaria seems to be untouched by the two factions, and it is where I will be staying now. Maybe Kalimdor will be a home once more...but not for years it seems.”

Shanaris sighed, and Naz followed thereafter. A sense of gloom peeked out from within the elf. To her, the people of Azeroth were hopeless. Avarice and hate flood the land to create war without care for the lands around it. Shanaris gripped her melancholy thoughts and buried them back just as the rest of her emotions.

“All is not totally doomed however. Despite the world, I think... I am happy.”

“Whoa there mon’. Happy? Where’d y’put Shanaris? The Shan I know wears that cute grumpy look ever since we were still little tree witches.” Naz chuckled, obviously on the ride to make a lighter atmosphere as to not keeps things entirely serious. Shanaris rolled her eyes, but not due to complete annoyance of Naz’s jests.

“Oh be quiet-- content then. I am content. Children, peaceful settlement. I could retire from everything right now if I wanted and live the rest of my days in peaceful solitude.”

“Why don’t ya then? Y’always been talking about taking it easy. Already cut ties with the Circle from what I heard.”

“I still have to protect things. Once nothing I cherish needs protection then I will rest. That...reminds me-- two favors?” Shanaris asked with a bit more emotion in her voice than the norm.

“Sure, whatcha need mon’?”

“The first is a meal. Your specialty. One for me right now and the other sealed and packed for the trip-- a little surprise for someone. I have told them about your cooking and it even made me hungry for your food.”

“Easy! Ain’t gettin’ much customers as of late so I’m expecting some coin in return for this.”

“Of course. Money is hardly an issue for me.”

Naz took a state of bewilderment, “Sheesh, gotta figure out where ya workin’ nowadays if you can just toss money like that. What’s the second favor?”

Shanaris’ lighthearted, at least for her it was such, expression faltered. “My father. He lives in Darnassus. Normally Trolls would not be welcomed but we as druids and yourself as a member of the Circle can enter with permission. I will give you as much gold as I can carry if you just...ensure his safety during the coming tides. I already lost my mother, I do not wish to lose my father as well.”

Naz slowly nodded her head, a hand reaching over to place onto Shanaris’ shoulder. “I ain’t had much family, but we’ve been knowing each other for so long y’pretty much family to me. I’ll make sure your Papa is all safe and sound, don’t even gotta pay me, but I want ya to visit more-- help me out around here sometime. Y’got kids and you don’t know how to cook yet? Idiot.”

Naz released Shanaris’ shoulder, but the elf was quick to take Naz’ hand in her own. She placed the hand to her forehead, a gesture familiar to Naz and Shanaris. It was the symbolic manifestation of the trust and friendship Shanaris had for Naz. None other alive save for one had the same amount of acceptance as Naz. if such a thing was comparable to another gesture, it would be the same as an embrace.

“Thank you.” Shanaris stated with a softness layering her natural tone of voice. She released Naz’s hand and returned her own back to its previous placement.

“Don’t worry about it Shan. S’what friends are for.” Shanaris grinned, an genuine grin that nearly forgot it had its place on the elf’s face. It was faint, an ember that sparked into the smallest flame to grant wamrth on a cold visage. Naz dipped her head in a nod before turning around and heading to the kitchen.

“Three Specials comin right up!”

“Wait-- I only asked for one.”

“I’m hungry too mon’! Could use a bit o’ eating!”

“Of course.”Shanaris sat in silence for few minutes before moving from her seat, and around the counter. She joined Naz in the kitchen to help, if not make conversation to further catch up on their past dealings. Even after Shanaris received the meals and the pairing ate their share, conversation remained.

#shanaris silvervine #friendship #night elf #kaldorei #troll #darkspear #warcraft #writing #story #Wyrmrest Accord #World of Warcraft

9 notes · View notes