#and I will sleepily plunge into the sea | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

foggymartin · 1 year

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I can actually post a whole ass fanfic on here wow - made by meee (wesper, travelling to the ice court, unfinished))

Wylan rested his head against the wooden wall of the ship. You couldn't even call it a ship, really. It was cramped, the sullen furniture too closed in, the people with their loud exteriors(and presence) made it feel like wylan was sitting inside an animal cage. Apart from the uncomfortable interior, the soft lull of the waves was a nice feeling. His head bobbed gently against the wall, curls rising and falling in front of his face. Most people stayed above deck, enjoying the fresh air away from the crowd. Luckily for wylan, that meant he could avoid both the clamour and the icy depths with ease.

Once they'd settled on the ship (as much as they could, with the Wraith badly injured) he'd taken a look out to sea. It was stretching and endless. His grip on the rails tightened as he was plunged into murky waters. It filled his lungs as he thrashed desperately through the depths, mustering all his strength to pull his trembling body into a small gap under a bridge. The water then sloshed pathetically at his feet, and he let his tears drop silently into it.

Wylan must've been gazing out into the sea for a while, lost in its rhythmic waves, as he didn't notice jesper - the tall zemeni, with the loudest exterior he'd ever seen, saunter up to him and taunt:

"Wishing you'd stayed safely at your daddy's mansion, are we, merchling?" Wylan jumped, his hard grip on the rails loosening. He braved a look into the boys cool grey eyes, and numbly shook his head. "No." He'd managed, his voice sounding far away from his own ears: "I don't regret staying here, and besides, not like Kaz gave me much of a choice." Jesper huffed out a chuckle in agreement, and wylan knew that brekker wasn't the only man who'd given him no choice.

He felt his eyes drooping, head still bobbing silently along with the curling waves. The room was at a decent enough temperature, and he flicked his coats collar upwards, nestling down into it. He felt his body relax properly for the first time in well.. Months. He'd been racked with fear after escaping the grip from his fathers men for weeks, and once kaz had given him jobs (which he accepted eagerly) he'd been too overwrought and desperate to prove he could be useful, leaving sleep trailing at the bottom of list of importances.

Wylan felt his conscious slipping away, welcoming the comfort of sleep with open arms. When would he get a time like this again? The ice court heist was bound to have a massive impact on everything they've ever known, and he wasn't even sure he belonged here, with them. He knew well that Kaz was only keeping him around to make sure they got their money, and even though he knew that his father would never keep his end of the deal, he couldn't bear to tell kaz that using him as a hostage would be a waste of time. Van eck wouldn't give them the money, and nothing would change that. Not even wylan van eck.

A few hours must've passed when wylan felt someone gently shaking his shoulders. His eyes opened slightly, light sweeping into his view. A woman held his shoulders, smiling softly. She had gorgeous long curls, and even though she looked exhausted, there was still a bright glint in her eyes. Wylan blinked sleepily, confusion washing over him. A small thought in his head bloomed. *mother?.. *

As his eyes cleared, he snapped into reality. His mother was dead, of course it wouldn't be her. He didn't even remember what she looked like. Nina shook him slightly harder. "Come on, wylan. Kaz wants us all above deck." She released his shoulders, and wylan listened to the gentle patter of her feet as she went above deck. He rubbed his eyes, groaning. The last traces of sleep ebbed away, along with any thought of his mother, as salty air pressed against his skin.

"I've already told you, demjin. This is a pointless mission. You won't be able to get into the ice court, and most certainly not out. " Matthias had repeated this every chance he could to Kaz, scowling as the man simply replied with "they haven't met us yet. " Wylan noticed that out of all of them, Matthias seemed most on edge. He knew it was because the giant of a man was officially becoming a traitor to his beloved fjerda, but he couldn't help but think the sea had something to do with it. The blonde was still a pale, murky green under his beard, and he spent a lot of time clutching the sides of the ship, looking like he was seriously considering jumping into the sea. Nina spent most of her time caring for inej, but fortunately their spider was recovering fast. She stayed below deck, but Nina happily reported on how she was coping. Kaz seemed even more threatening than he was before, and most steered clear of him. And jesper.. well. Wylan didn't know what to expect from him, but he seemed to be faring well - chatting around to people (including wylan) or complaining about how long they would be stuck on the ship for. Kaz suggested he could jump off if he wanted to leave that bad, and jesper frowned, his talking ceasing for a surprising 5 minutes.

Wylan lingered near the below deck door, not willing to go close to the waters. He leaned against a wall, wind blowing his hair in frenzied directions. A hand patted him roughly on the shoulder, pushing him towards where, wylan noticed, the rest of the group was. Apart from inej, of course.

"Come on, merchling, standing at the side like some afraid puppy isn't going to help anyone." Jesper said. Wylan furrowed his brows, but couldn't help noticing how gently jesper was pushing him. Had he seen the way he was with the sea? Wylan flushed with embarrassment of jesper seeing him staring out to sea like some kind of idiot.

"Matthias, if you would be so kind to tell me which way to approach from. I don't want this journey to take longer because we have to circle around fjerda, but if we must, do tell." Kaz said, examining a map of fjerda inej had given him before they left. Matthias winced every time he was compelled into spilling secrets and treachery of his home, and wylan felt himself sympathizing with the fjerdan. He'd never tell Matthias that, though. Certain way to lose your fingers.. Nina had reassured wylan that the glowers weren't lethal, and that he was essentially "all bark, no bite" unless you really riled him up. Wylan hoped he wouldn't get on the wrong side of him, seriously doubting he'd be able to fend against a 6'4 man with the most muscular build on a person wylan had ever seen.

As Matthias described the entrances to fjerda, wylan was acutely aware of the fact that jesper hadn't moved away from him after drawing him over to the group. He stood close to him, arms folded casually, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he watched Matthias getting more and more disgruntled with the 'demjin'. Wylan thought that the thing that stood out most about jesper wasn't his mismatched, strange clothes, or his guns, or his personality. It was his eyes. Jesper was constantly in motion, yet his eyes.. They were still. Calm. Flowing like a grey cloud through the air. Wylan honestly could stare into jespers eyes for ages. He liked to think that they matched with his eyes. He was the sea, and jesper was a cloud above, almost touching. Again, that little thought blooming in his head. A need for a love like his mothers, or a love for a person with pearl handled revolvers. He suppressed the thought. He didn't love jesper, even *if* he liked the boy, love was too far since they hadn't known each other that long. Besides, jesper seemed disinterested, and so was wylan. A little voice in his head whispered otherwise, drowned out by the wind rush in his ears.

By the time they'd stopped discussing the way to get into fjerda, the sun was setting, an amber glow in the sky. Wylans legs were numb, and his feet tingled uncomfortably.

He wondered if maybe he could take a glance at the sea. He needed to get used to it, anyways - they were going to be on this ship for a longer time yet. Wylan trudged over to the edge, shaking the stiffness out of his legs. Jesper had began a conversation with Nina, Matthias a distance away, glaring at the boy. Or glaring at Nina? Wylan could never tell if he was glaring anyways - maybe he just looked like that. He placed his hands on the smooth railing of the ship, pulling himself closer; a bubbling mild panic brewing in his chest. Although wylan felt like he should, he didn't move away, breathing slowly and deeply, drumming his fingers on the edge. Looking down, he half expected Prior to emerge from the depths, and drag him down. *don't be stupid, wylan. * a harsh voice spoke in his head. It came from him yet sounded scarily like his father, surging the panic from his chest upwards, consuming him. He held on tighter. Nobody was in the sea.. He wouldn't fall in the sea. He needed to get over this fear or he really would be useless to everyone - yet he couldn't. He tried to calm himself, but the only response his body gave was to cling like a trembling leaf, watching the sea with fixed, wide eyes.

*jesper*

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Jesper finished his short conversation with Nina, shooting a quick remark at the furious Matthias and turning away. His eyes rested on the silhouette looking out to sea. Wylan hadn't been above deck much, and when they'd first settled on the boat, he was staring blankly into the waves like something was going to get him. Jespers little tease seemed to snap him out of it, so maybe this time it would work too. Jesper approached, not caring to be quiet as he didn't want to make him jump and knock the poor kid into the sea or something. Jesper stood next to the boy. He knew wylan had acknowledged him, even though his deep blue eyes were fixated on the sea. Soft tremors went through him, and his fingers were turning white due to the pressure on the rails. Jesper placed his hands next to wylans, not particularly sure what to do.

"Merchling?" he murmured, placing a hand gently on his wrist and prying wylans hands from the rails. Wylans eyes snapped back to him, the glow in them almost reflecting the ocean. He trembled, inhaling deeply. "I.. sorry, seasick." He muttered, straightening up and glancing awkwardly into jespers eyes. Jesper liked his eyes, as weird as it sounded. A deep blue, like a zemeni sky or the sea at night,with the reflection of the moon in them which were his pupils. "We can.. Go below deck if you're sick then.." Jesper said, smiling a little. Wylan nodded almost immediately, so he pulled him gently down to the quarters.

Wylan was back to normal almost as soon as he sat down on a soft chair, exhaling slowly, gnawing on his thumb. The cold air had tinted his cheeks, leaving them as a faded rose colour. Jesper slouched down beside him, drumming his fingers against the table. He glanced across the table, searching for something to occupy himself with whilst being a comfort to wylan(if he needed it.) His eyes caught sight of an envelope, with a rough scrawl on it. Reaching, he noticed that it was addressed to wylan van eck. He peered at wylan, letter in his hands. Wylan was rummaging through his bag, fumbling with some of his items - not many. A neat, thin flute and some letters. Unopened. Jesper cocked his head to the side, glancing back down at the letter in his hands. "Wylan," he began, pausing as the boy lifted the letter out of his hands, placing it into his bag. His hands brushed jespers, and a small smile tugged on his lips. "Thanks - I'll take that." Jesper couldn't stop the expression on his face. "You.. You're not gonna read them? Your dads been writing to you a lot.." He asked, watching wylan for any reaction. The boy scoffed. "I left home. I don't want to talk to him, or... read..." He trailed off, frowning. Jesper raised his hands defensively. "Alright, wont force an answer."

They sat in silence for what felt like ages for jesper. He wanted to go run around the deck, or something.. Feel the air all around him, hell, he was so restless he felt that he could even do with a swim. Wylan must've noticed his movement, because he glanced up from the sketches of the ice court he was inspecting. "I appreciate it but, you don't have to sit here with me." He looked down again. Jesper mocked a hurt expression, not wanting to be too eager in his departure. "Does someone as.. High class as you not want someone like me around? Honestly, merchling, thought my charm worked on everyone." He sighed dramatically, shaking his head. Wylan rolled his eyes, yet the small smile returned to his face. "Seriously, you don't want to know about the type of people my father knew. I had to meet them all.."

Jesper smiled. Maybe he could stay.. Talking with wylan took up a lot of that restless energy, and besides, he'd wanted someone to talk to. Everyone's been so.. Cut off. The 2 spoke quietly together throughout the night.

*wylan*

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Wylan woke with a start, back and neck aching. He groaned, lifting his head and looking around. Slumped on a chair next to him was jesper, who was snoring quietly. Wylan yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. They must've dozed off talking to eachother last night.. Wylan peeked out of a porthole, and darkness still washed around them. His back ached, and he knew if he left jesper there he wouldn't hear the end of it.. He staggered around in the dark, collecting pillows to shove under jespers neck and back. After many attempts he secured them into place, leaning back on his chair. Hopefully jesper wouldn't tease him for giving him pillows. Wylan scoffed - he'd consider that jesper might be a little stupid if he did tease, yet what do you know? He's full of surprises.

Wylan realized that all the pillows were now used up, and he was hunched over a wooden chair. He didn't want to wake jesper, but he needed to sleep. He could just.. Go to his quarter (well, his and jespers). He took a final glance at jesper. Eyes closed, breath making one of wylans diagrams rise and fall, arms stretched out on the table, mouth slightly open. Wylan sat back down on his chair, drifting into an uncomfortable sleep.

*jesper*

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As jesper woke, he was aware of how strangely comfortable sleeping on a wooden chair was. He shifted to one side, sinking into the pillows around him. He practically winced when he saw wylan. Not that he looked *bad, * just.. Uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable.

His head was resting against his satchel, ruddy gold curls flopped over his face, rising with his soft breath, back arched awkwardly in the chair, one arm under his head, the other by his side, dangling off of the table. Jesper groaned, standing up and stretching. He didn't understand why wylan stayed in the chair and didn't go and lie down on the perfectly good sofa in the room.

He hoisted wylan up with no grace, surprised at how deeply he was asleep, falling limp on his arms. Jesper dumped wylan onto the sofa, throwing a blanket over him. He shuffled under the blanket, draping one arm over it, his eyes fluttering briefly. Jesper rolled his eyes. "How do you even sleep through that.. How do you even carry on sleeping on a wooden chair??" He grumbled, yet kept his voice at a suitable level to make sure wylan stayed asleep. Jesper knew it was pointless to try and get back to sleep - energy already radiating off of him - and as he glanced out the window he figured it was early morning. The sea was quietly rumbling, the waves encased in an outline of amber sunlight.

Jesper stepped out onto deck, surprised to see nobody there. Perhaps inej was there though - silently watching. He gazed up at the sky, taking in the grey, fluffy clouds and the pink and orange tint to the light sky. It contrasted well to the water, as they met in the faraway horizon, colour combining into a dazzling purple. A patter of timid rain bounced against the floors, and in the distance from where they came, jesper swore he could still make out the dwindling little lights of ketterdam sparkling through the fog.

*wylan*

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Wylan inhaled a gust of warm air, eyes flickering open slowly. He stretched out on the sofa, sighing. Guiltily, his eyes latched onto where he hoped jesper would still be. The chair was empty, pillows sprawled across the floor. Wylan dragged himself off of the sofa, eyes still lingering on the place he saw jesper last night. Shaking off the fact that he was on the sofa and not the chair(he'd already concluded that he'd been moved, not a mystery) he rolled his shoulders and pulled on a long, navy jacket and a carefully woven scarf which he was gifted by someone - undoubtedly one of his father's rich friends - whilst he still lived in his father's house. It connected him to bad memories, but he wore it all the same.

The air was significantly cooler this morning, and wylan felt an icy tremor spike down his back. He pulled his scarf tightly to his neck, breath visible in faint puffs in front of his face. The deck was mainly deserted, matthias sat on the opposite side of the deck, shockingly sat in a long sleeved shirt (to be fair, he was also wearing a massive fur scarf and heavy gloves, but really? Long sleeves?) Wylan felt colder just looking at him. Jesper lounged closer to wylan, leaning on the balls of his feet over the edge, clutching his hat to his head, and draped over his lanky frame was a lime jacket which flowed wildly in the wind. Wylan winced at the icy sparks on his skin, pulling his scarf over his nose. At least the others had common sense. What were these 3 doing out here, in the cold? What were any of them doing out here at all?

Wylan stumbled, as if through a blizzard, towards jesper: forcing himself not to reach out and cling to jespers coat for safety. He stared down at his feet, unable to meet the seas stony gaze, and focused on counting the sharp crooks and lines on the floor. He placed his pale hands - which had now turned a pinkish purple due to cold- on the wood, clinging to it like it would give him some sense of warmth. Jesper grinned, not even blinking at the ferocity of the wind and rain. He generated a strange sense of warmth wylan couldn't wrap his head around. Jespers cheeks were tinted red, and his hands were laced in leather. Wylan shivered, edging silently closer to the boy, hoping the interior warmth may actually make him less freezing. "How are you enjoying this?" Wylan hissed, grabbing his scarf and drawing it up to his reddened nose. "My wonderful personality radiates such warmth that cold fears me. " jesper spoke in a dramatic, poet voice, and wylan almost believed him. "Save some warmth for the rest of us then. Hogging the heat for yourself.. " he grumbled, eyes still not meeting the sea. Jesper turned to him, eyes alight like a cool grey fire, filling wylan with a tingling sensation as if he was standing in front of a blazing bonfire at night. "You could always.. Go be warm inside. It's always stuffy in there. " he waved a hand in the direction of the stairs nonchalantly, yet his face willed wylan to stay - at least, that's how wylan felt. Drawn to him. He scoffed in a mock hurt - a small smile playing on his lips. "Are you sending me away, jesper Fahey?" He ducked his head forward, a fire igniting in his chest, thrilling him. Jesper laughed, and their eyes met at exactly the same time. They were the sea and the sky, and they would travel the ends of the world together, carried by the wind.

#six of crows #grishaverse #shadow and bone #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #fanfic #fanfiction #wesper

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ultimateluckystudent-writes · 3 years

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On Island Time

Summary: Nagito’s been restless recently. It’s not his fault, but he’ll act like it is. It’s alright though, he’s not alone, even during his alone time.

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: Under-Negotiated Voyeurism, Self-Depricative Thoughts, Dom/Sub Undertones, Guilt, Female Reader, She/Her Pronouns

General Themes/Tags: Masturbation, Voyeurism, Handjob, Praise Kink, Slight Degradation Kink, Slight + Gentle Femdom, Submissive Komaeda, Hung Komaeda, Island Mode AU

Ao3 link

A/N: Starting the blog off with a bang, huh? Whoops I made these tags make it seem like it’s more angsty than it is- it’s not sad I promise promise it’s just that Nagito’s… himself and I’m a freak so… here we are… (Also it’s told from Nagito’s perspective, don’t ask me what I was thinking, you’re too far deep now)

Nagito had just wanted to go to sleep. The day had been tiring, collecting things from the forest until his back ached. He hadn’t had a break in what felt like ages. Every time he felt just tired enough to request a day off… well, she dropped by his room with a good, hot meal and a bright smile that made him feel revitalized enough to wait it out. Sure enough, after a good night’s sleep and breakfast the next morning, he was always ready to go. But he found himself a bit tired of the routine, especially when she didn’t stay afterwards to eat with him, or spend time with him after searching.

He rolled his eyes at himself as he slipped out of his clothes, remaining just in his boxers and white shirt. Who am I kidding? I’m lucky that she’s even kind enough to drop by. No, actually, even that’s too much of a stretch. She just wants to keep the group motivated and searching for materials. Honestly, isn’t that better than her having such terrible taste in companionship? Trying to keep the production and hope of the group up?

He yawned and trudged his way over to turn the lights off before slipping right into bed. He let out a quiet sigh of pleasure at the feeling of the clean, soft sheets against his bare skin, and his head sinking into a soft pillow. The breeze from his open windows blew through the curtains around his bed. He could hear the faint watery noises coming from the pool’s waterfall. As his eyes lowered shut, his mind betrayed him once more, replaying a memory he hadn’t consciously summoned. All at once, he could feel her warm, soft hand brushing against his as they shared the shade under a tree in the park. Oh dear…

The truth was, Nagito wasn’t just tired from the routine, or even the collecting. It was from the time he spent up after a reasonable hour with thoughts of her. He always felt so guilty during, and especially after, but he couldn’t deny himself the bubbly, almost nervous feeling that came with them. It was exhilarating, like taking a plunge down a rollercoaster. And with the way that she treated him, he almost felt like she would be okay with him thinking about her. He shook his head. It’s best not to think anything too foolish.

He tried closing his eyes. She laughed, bright and loud, at a joke he had made. He curled his fingers into the pillow. She waved to him over her shoulder excitedly, a stunning centerpiece in front of the sparkling sea. He pulled the covers up over his shoulders. She leaned against his shoulder, dozing off on the beanbags in the library while they read. He hadn’t even been able to focus enough on his book to get to the next page after that, until she woke up barely in time to make it back for dinner. She didn’t even look embarrassed or ashamed that it was him she’d been snuggling up to. She’d just yawned and stretched and giggled sleepily about how he must have been hot, because he was so red. The flush was from the tingling sensation he felt throughout his whole body while she was pressed up against him, and lasted long after she pulled away.

She made him feel like they were true friends. She made him feel wanted. She made him feel like that mattered. Not for long, of course. I’m gullible, not stupid. Still, every bit of him loved the raw talent that he knew she must have had to be able to do such a feat. He buried his face into the bedding, trying to get ahold of the feeling in his chest, because he knew how the story went. These weren’t the thoughts that had kept him up so late at night. What kept him up was what he started thinking about when the feeling got to be too much and seeped down to his belly, and then even further.

Like every night, he was too late.

She stood before him, her bathing suit tight around her form as she stood in front of him. His dick twitched in his underwear. She crossed her legs while focusing one what she was writing down on her clipboard, exposing more of her thighs as her skirt slid up. He flipped onto his back. She tied her shirt up at her waist on a particularly hot day, leaving a tantalizing strip of skin exposed, but only when she raised her arms. Nagito felt guilty, of course, but couldn’t help the desire to watch her even closer that day, enchanted. His hand moved down past his stomach. She bent over to help look for Tanaka’s lost earring, her back arched, and before he could rip his gaze away, caught just a glimpse of her striped panties. The sight made him immediately head back to his cabin, attempting to fight off an erection the whole way there. He finally slipped his hands past his waistband and sighed. He was half-hard already.

I’m hardly even pitiful. Just the thought of her works me into a state like this… that’s not the surprising part, she’s breathtaking, but I manage to disappoint even myself. I’m truly nothing more than a hormonal teenager. How could I ever be enough? How could I even dare to-

He had learned quickly that either set of thoughts wouldn’t go away if he didn’t do anything. At least when he took care of himself quickly he didn’t have to prolong the shame. He sat up and tugged his boxers down. He swallowed hard as the fabric brushed against the sensitive skin of his cock. He pushed the blankets down and pumped some of the lotion on his nightstand into his hand. He didn’t feel like he deserved the pleasure that came alongside it, but it certainly sped up the process, and he’d gotten worried about chafing after the first couple of nights. He wrapped his hand around his shaft and began to stroke, pulling the skin around the pink tip down. He worked slowly at first, simply trying to get fully hard.

It was always easier at the beginning to not picture her. He focused on his body and the feeling and without fail assured himself he could finish without thinking about her. Without fail, he was always calling her name when he made a sticky mess. He told himself this time would be different. He brushed the pad of his thumb against his head and gasped. He reminded himself that he already knew he was a disappointment.

He bit his lip as his strokes sped up. He tried to stay in the moment. To smell the lotion. To lose himself in the undeniable pleasure. To picture his lips brushing against hers- no, no, no! Fuck. How pathetic that y- oh, fuck! He whimpered as the idea of his hands on her made it through his mental barriers, causing his hips to thrust involuntarily upwards. He pictured her taking off her shirt, revealing her gorgeous tits to him. Her straddling him, letting him touch her wherever he pleased. Her trusting him enough to give her the orgasm that she deserved- or, the closest thing Nagito could give to her. Surely you don’t think you could make her feel good? With your disgusting, filthy hands?

The idea felt like cold water running down his spine, and made the fantasies seem much less arousing. He switched his train of thought. He wanted her to kiss his neck, maybe even spare him marks that would last long past when they were finished. He wanted her to pinch and pull at his nipples, giggling at how sensitive he was, but not stopping until he was a whimpering mess. He wanted her to run against his sides and back and make him shake.

He was getting close already, never having much stamina. His heavy breathing turned into whimpers. He wanted her hand instead of his, squeezing the base of his cock just tight enough to make him beg to cum. He wanted her above him, her lips wrapped around him while she fingered his tight hole. His mouth fell open with needy noises, and he knew soon he’d be over the edge. He moaned out her name, the only word his mind was capable of forming. Just the feeling of it on his lips made his toes curl.

What he truly wanted most was for her eyes to be adoring when she looked at him, no matter what she was saying or doing. For her to praise him when he was coming down off of his high. For her to hold him afterwards, and not leave. He cried out, gripping at the sheets with his other hand. He wanted to wake up to her grinding on him, as a show of power, yes, but mostly as a reminder that they were joined, connected- that he was wanted-

“Fuck!”

He didn’t say that.

Nagito’s stomach leapt out of him and he frantically tucked himself back into his underwear, feeling all for the world like he’d been caught. His head whipped back and forth, but he didn’t see anyone in the still, dark night. The clock read almost one am. He couldn’t imagine that anyone was up. So what did I just hear?

He maneuvered his still-hard cock so it was tucked into his waistband and covered by his shirt. He tried not to think about it too hard or be too obviously pink as he walked over to the window where he’d heard the sound. He leaned out to his left and looked all over, but didn’t see anyone. Right as he was about to turn, however, there was a thump and a hiss of pain. He honestly wouldn’t have seen the person in time if they hadn’t fallen, but on the ground holding her slightly skinned shin was the object of his fantasies herself.

Well, I’m fucked.

“Ah, so it was you!” Despite his thoughts, as always, the excitement he felt at seeing her still made him smile. “Are you okay?”

“Haha… yeah… I was just walking by and a gust of wind came and the window flew open and hit me in the head.” She laughed weakly, laced with pain. “Then as I was leaving, I tripped over my shoelaces and skinned my shin and hand.” He assessed the scene. It certainly was more windy than when he’d… started. He supposed he hadn’t noticed the windows, lost in his thoughts. When she moved her hands, he saw her slightly cut up leg and dirty skirt. She was still wearing the same clothes as earlier, piquing Nagito’s interest. As she began to stand, he shook his head and remembered himself.

“Would you like to come in? I’ve got plenty of bandages and knowledge of how to treat small wounds.” What are you doing?! You’re still hard! If she sees you she’s going to think you’re absolutely filthy and a pervert- and she’ll be right! “That is, of course, only if you’re comfortable-”

“Yes, please.” She interrupted, immediately getting back to her feet. She must be scraped up worse than I saw, for her to spend time with me so late at night willingly. She walked off and when he was sure she couldn’t see him, darted over to turn on a lamp and look at himself in the mirror. His still semi-hard cock wasn’t too obvious with it arranged the way he had it, but it was certainly hard to keep it that way. He looked around frantically, almost sighing in relief when he saw his way out. He grabbed his jacket, which draped down much past his hips when he was holding it, and met her at the door. She smiled at him gratefully, though it was a bit strained.

“Is it alright if I sit on the bed?” She asked. He shifted his gaze to it. You know how much you’ll be tempting luck if you let this happen. She’ll be sitting right by the spot where I-

“Of course! Please, make yourself comfortable. I extend my full hospitality to you.” He smiled in a way he hoped was kind instead of terrified and a little bit horny and backed up with the door to let her in and stay out of her sight. He shut the door behind them a little bit harder than he meant to, making him jump. “My apologies! How clumsy of me!”

“It’s alright, I understand. You’re not the only one who’s been clumsy tonight.” She looked around the room. “Thank you so much for letting me in. It’s really nice and clean.”

“Ah, I’m sure you’ve got a much nicer place. It feels quite empty, still.”

“That’s just because you haven’t started making it your own. I can help you pick out some things at the market sometime soon if you’d like.” She offered, so easily, so casually, like the commitment of spending an afternoon with him meant nothing to her. He squeezed his legs together ever-so-slightly.

“Your bandages!” He shook his head and hurried over to the bed, pulling out a couple of packages of different types of adhesive bandages and hand wipes from his jacket. He made sure to lay the jacket over his lap and pulled out a wipe. “Was it both hands?”

“This one got it worse, the other one is pretty much fine.” She showed him the palm of her left hand. The bottom of it, by the wrist, had been scratched up by the gravel. “Oh, I can do it myself-”

“Nonsense!” He blurted, smacking himself internally for how desperate he sounded. “It’s much harder to do with one hand.” He held the underside of her hand with his, trying not to think about how much smaller hers were. He thoroughly cleaned the area and wiped off the bit of dirt left. Even in the wind she was just in, his hands must have felt icy compared to his.

“That one doesn’t need a bandaid, I guess. It looks like it’s stopped bleeding, and I don’t really want one on my palm. If it bothers me later, I can just pick some up from the market. This one though,” she stuck her leg out to look at her shin. It was a much larger and deeper scrape. Nagito winced. Did I cause this just from thinking about her? The window flying open right while she was there was indeed unfortunate. “Is probably gonna need some help.” She giggled. He’d always admired her cheerful attitude in spite of any problems. She’s a bit like… no. Don’t even compare you two. She’s a beautiful paragon of the Ultimates’ hope… you’ve barely even got a ‘talent’.

She turned to place her shin between his thighs, spreading both of their legs in the process. Nagito almost choked. He was frozen for a moment before snapping out of his stupor and nodding dumbly. He grabbed a clean wipe for the next wound, making sure to be gentle. He tried to convince himself it was just because he didn’t want to hurt her, and not because he liked the position. He finally placed the large bandage patch on.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking,” He started, breaking the silence before she inevitably announced she had to go. “What were you doing outside at two am?” She paused in the middle of checking out her leg, the smile on her face dropping just a bit. He could feel her muscles tense. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-”

“No, no, no, it’s okay.” Despite what she said, Nagito didn’t miss her voice rising an octave, or how she was suddenly very interested in the hem of her skirt. “I was, uh… well, I… fuck.” She twisted the fabric in her hands. “This is, er, harder to say than I even imagined.”

“Don’t make yourself uncomfortable on my behalf!” He said quickly. “If you don’t want to-”

“Iheardyoutheothernight!” She exclaimed, all at once.

There was a beat where he had no idea what she was saying, much less talking about. Then all of a sudden, he did.

“I… I heard you… s- say my name.”

“I’m so, so, so, deeply sorry-” He bowed deeply, clenching his teeth. She doesn’t want to hear you say her name again! You worthless, disgusting- His thoughts continued to berate him as he focused hard not to bang his head against the wall until he bled out in agony right then and there. “I know I’ve done something absol-”

“Komaeda-kun,” she rested her non-bandaged hand on his shoulder. He jumped a bit at the touch. “I… I- I’ve-been-watching-you-every-night-since-then!”

Another beat.

“What?”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m so sorry! Fuck!” Her voice was shaking. “I’m so, so sorry… I just… I couldn’t sleep the other night, so I went to go sit by the pool because I like to put my feet in the water, and, and I passed by your window and…” Her eyes managed to creep their way back onto him. “You… you sounded so pretty.” She bit her thumb hard. His mouth simply sat agape. “I felt so, so, bad, but then you… you said my name. And- well, I thought I’d been caught for a moment, but you weren’t even… looking at me.” Her voice was breathly, lowering with each sentence. “Your eyes were closed. S- so… so I’ve been watching you for the past couple of nights… oh my God, what the fuck is wrong with me?” She wailed and sank off the bed and to the floor in shame, her face in her hands.

“…why did you watch me?”

She looked back up at him, her eyes were now bloodshot. He realized that she had been crying over her guilt. Crying over what she had done to him.

“…you are the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen.” She whispered. “Hearing my name… seeing you do that, when I had- when I’d thought of you the same way already,” Nagito’s mouth fell open. “It was like heaven. I thought I was gonna wake up from a dream.” She broke eye contact and began to stand up, because he wasn’t reacting anymore. “I’m sorry, I should go-”

“No!” He shouted, his hand flying out to grab her shoulder. They both looked at each other, terrified and awestruck at once. “You were… here tonight? Doing that? W- watching me?” She studies his face carefully, looking for what he wanted the answer to be, before she hung her head and nodded. The hand still in Nagito’s lap dug his fingers into his leg. “Well… I don’t understand why you would actually want to watch me…” He slid the jacket off of his lap slowly. His hands were visibly trembling. Her eyes were fixated on the motion the whole time, even after he left himself exposed. He leaned back and spread his legs just a bit so she could see the full outline of his erection. “But… you absolutely can, if you’d really like.”

She gasped like she was the one who was on display. He couldn’t believe how hot he felt just thinking about her watching him all that time, all on her own. He couldn’t believe that she was really doing this. He was mostly convinced it was just some sort of joke still. Or that she had heard him and was just taking pity on him. But I’ve always been selfish, so… I might as well enjoy this while I can.

Still, it was hard for even him to deny how hungry her expression was. His cock twitched visibly, making her groan again, which didn’t help him. She rose back onto the bed, her hand smoothly sliding between his thighs. His mouth fell open with an almost imperceptible gasp.

“I mean…” Her voice trembled, even as her motions were so sure. “I’m already here… and I barged in here so late at night, Komaeda-kun…” She murmured right by his ear. He could feel his inhibitions disappearing. Those soft fingers he’d fantasized about all those times were now tracing circles on his skin underneath the fabric of one of the legs of his boxers. “I should… repay you.” Her voice became much more confident with that idea. “Why don’t you let me help? After all, you’ve already given me quite a show…”

“Ah- uh- oh, the bad luck from this is going to take somebody’s life.” He groaned, biting his lip hard in a feeble attempt to not rut into the air. “We musn’t… I shouldn’t…” He whimpered, but as she wrapped a hand around his cock through his boxers and rubbed him up and down, his eyes rolled back and all that fell from his mouth were needy, pathetic noises.

“I wouldn’t, if you didn’t want it so bad.” The accusation and sudden change in attitude made his hand come to his mouth to stifle a moan. “Lift your hips… I wanna feel that gorgeous cock of yours.” He didn’t even register why she was asking this of him before he was doing it. She slid his boxers off- finally- revealing his hard-on. Despite his earlier hesitation, he didn’t mind her seeing all of him. Whatever she wanted to do- degrade him, laugh at him, hit him, or even, and he could barely even hope for this, touch him- he wouldn’t mind at all. He understood that his body was pathetic better than anyone, so nothing she could do would hurt more than he would simply love the attention. That he would love the fact that he’d caused a lapse in judgement big enough to ask him to do this.

“Fuck,” He could feel her voice while pressed so close up against her. “It wasn’t a trick of the light… you… really are big.” Her tone was tinged with a disbelieving laugh.

“Ah, another way the universe enjoys toying with me.” His words were firm but his voice was so breathy. “An… acceptable endowment attached to a lowly thing like myself, with nobody who would want such a thing from me-” He choked as her thumb swiped across his wet, pink tip. He’d been hard for so long without relief that the precum that hadn’t already formed a wet patch on his clothes was gathered at the tip.

“I’m right here, you idiot.” She said fondly. She pulled him into her side to hold him closer. That shocked him more than anything else tonight. He was tense for a moment, confused as to what she was doing, until her hand continued moving over his still lotion-slick cock. He realized that she simply meant to keep him here, so close and vulnerable with her, and it was almost euphoric.

He attempted to keep still so as not to make a move that would- God forbid- make her remember who he was and how filthy a creature she was holding, but the warmth and unfamiliarity of her hand was too much for him. It seemed as though she was admiring his dick, veiny and deeply red as it was. He practically purred as she continued, wrapping his arms around her and holding her through the overwhelming feelings. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, which let her hear every one of his noises.

“Oh, that’s perfect, baby,” She said gently. The praise felt like liquid heat running through his body. “You know exactly how I want you, don’t you? You’re such a good boy, aren’t you?” Nagito couldn’t keep quiet when she said that, and a cry that broke off at the end as his hips snapped up unconsciously fell from his mouth. He squeezed her tighter, fingers desperately curling into her clothes. He realized how close he was in such a short amount of time, and what a deplorable thing making her do all the work had been. He let go of her, and attempted to push her away.

“Please, please, you- you must let me please you, too-” He meant for it to be a seductive sort of demand, but it came off instead as a desperate plea. “I- I’m gonna finish-” To his surprise, and slight arousal, she laughed. She grabbed the collar of his t-shirt and pulled him back into her with a surprising amount of force.

“I think it’s cute that you think that’s how this works.” She cooed, right by his neck, the sensation sounding a shiver all the way down his spine. How could he do anything but completely melt at that? He groaned loudly in her ear and his full body weight fell onto her at once. His mind was barely keeping itself together as she stroked him so surely from bottom to tip, the slick sounds unheard over his pants and cries. His legs were almost completely draped over hers by this point, shaking and tensing. His boxers had fallen all the way to the floor, leaving him only in his loose shirt on her lap, even as she was still fully clothed. “Oh? Do you enjoy being talked to like that? Like you’re stupid?” She asked, though it was clear she knew the answer.

“Y- yes! Oh, yes, please, I- I’m p- pathetic, worthless, nothing- Ah- oh, yes!” Even he found it disgusting how quickly he had been reduced to this, but it was hard to focus on his usual self-loathing thoughts when she was speeding her hand up and he could smell her shampoo.

“Fuck yes, pathetic, and so, so adorable.” From the way she sounded, it was almost like she was getting off on just watching him and touching him. Maybe she’s a pervert, who likes reducing creeps to where they belong. Even thinking that, however, he couldn’t understand why she had called him ‘adorable’. He couldn’t understand why it was having such a big effect on him. “You’re normally much more talkative than this. I figured you wouldn’t shut up if I put my hands on you. What happened, cat got your tongue?” He could hear the smirk in her voice without looking at her. She was so smug in her power over him- the power she’d obtained so quickly, so easily. It made him feel secure in letting her have it.

“I- I wouldn’t want to ruin this with my words.” He mumbled, hoping she wouldn’t say anything that would require him to think again. He enjoyed feeling like his brain was mush- at least not in the scary sense for once. She didn’t acknowledge it with any noise, but her hand slowed down just enough for him to notice. The familiar, chilly bite of rejection spread through him at once. “Like that, you see? I truly am worthless-”

“Enough.” She snapped, pace quickening to a speed even faster than before. He succumbed to the pleasure almost at once. “You couldn’t ruin how much I’ve wanted you since we met very easily, Nagito-kun. I should have just told you how pretty you sounded instead of teasing you. Ah well, we’ll just get you used to it. Pretty boy.” She kissed his pale shoulder. The affection made his breath hitch, and he was close again so quickly it almost hurt.

“N- nooo-” He meant it to come out as a serious rebuttal, but by the time it escaped his mouth and reached her ears, it was a petulant whine. It only made her laugh at him more. He couldn’t take the addictive mix of humiliation, pride, and pleasure much longer. His thighs trembled. His chest heaved from his panting. His stream of drool was beginning to run down her shoulder, but he hadn’t even noticed. He knew the sensation of his orgasm building well, but never this intensely, never this good.

“Th- thank you!” He cried, his head thrown back. He rocked his hips back and forth on her, more like he was grinding down then thrusting up. “Thank you, thank you, thank you- oh!” His hands tangled into her hair as he came, forehead pressed up against hers and moaning with abandon right against her face. The feeling was intense, wracking through his delicate frame as he shook against her. She continued holding him tightly, half-afraid he’d toss himself off the bed with all the writhing he was doing.

Thick ropes of cum covered their thighs and her hand as she continued stroking him through it, watching him in fascination that he missed. It was over too soon for his liking, and her hand felt more uncomfortable than he wanted it to. He grunted in displeasure and she removed her hand, letting him release his final, shaky breath that kept him tense. She held up her hand in the light. She was shaking and panting like she was the one who had just come. She slowly brought her hand to her lips, flicking her tongue out to taste it.

“D- don’t.” He protested, weakly beginning to stir again. “I’m filthy-”

“Shh…” She played with the ends of his hair with her clean hand. He couldn’t argue. “Do you have a towel or anything around here-”

“I’ll get it.” He shook his head and got up, grabbing the tissues from his nightstand. He surveyed the mess he’d made. “Ah… I’m so sorry, I should have warned you before-”

“You don’t have to apologize for finishing, Nagito-kun. It’s alright if I call you that, right? I mean… we kind of just…” She didn’t know what to finish that with as he wiped up her thighs and then his.

“Of course you can. You can call me anything you’d like.”

There was something empty in his voice, though. There was something empty in the room. Now that they weren’t directly occupied, the full weight of what they’d done was sinking in.

“I gotta go take a shower now. You probably should, too.” She chuckled half-heartedly. She slid off the bed and made her way to the door. They never ended up locking it. “Hey, Nagito-kun?”

She’s going to say ‘I don’t ever wanna see you again. You disgust me. Never talk about this night again. How could you do this to me-’

“Yes?”

“I’ll be back tomorrow.” With that, she slid out of the cabin and into the night, leaving him staring at a doorway, the curtains blowing in and out.

*****

A/N: This was originally planned to have multiple chapters of being horny w femdom energy, and the motivation is still There in me somewhere. so if you’ve got any ideas/weird kinks feel free to toss em at me I would love them

ALSO!!!!! Because she gave me permission to tag her: @nagito-kissmaeda

I look up to her so much as a writer (I just realized she wrote like… H A L F of my bookmarked Nagito fics on ao3. like actually. I was gonna list out my faves before I went through them and realized oh. they were all of my favs. but she just recently posted this degradation fic that was,,, so good. also apparently the only one I HAVEN’T read by her is one about Nagito being mean to himself while masturbating to the reader?? so like, same hat. please can we be friends I’ll literally discuss your interpretations of Nagito at any moment)

#danganronpa #dr2 #nagito komaeda x reader #nagito x reader #on island time #i accidentally posted this to the wrong blog at first. whoops #bunnywrites

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storm-and-starlight · 3 years

Text

While the Crown Hangs Heavy on Either Side

All These Fictions We Took to Mean Fate

Part five, and the ending of the main line of the story, with a fair bit of angst, but a little bit of comfort there too! The story so far has been posted on AO3, and the happy ending epilogue will go up on Tumblr and AO3 the day after next! I would also like to clarify that Valdo dies of tetanus from an infected cut -- I wanted the most ignominious death possible for someone like him and that felt like the way to go! (It isn't graphically described in the fic, don't worry)

The song for this segment is Welly Boots, by The Amazing Devil

Part One / AO3

It was morning when the mage came.

They’d been in Cintra, or what was left of it, in a ragged tavern that made its living serving the soldiers of the Western Reach, but the beds were clean and no one seemed to mind the presence of a bard and his witcher in the corner. They would have been off for-- somewhere else, soon enough; this contract had been over and done with and Geralt with barely a new scar to show for it, and Jaskier ready to leave this shell of a country. The light had been white-clear and brilliant, slanting through the narrow windows and swirling sleepily through the dust in the air -- it was only a morning like any other, until the mage came.

She didn’t bother to use the door, simply portaled straight into the tavern itself in a swirl of dark Chaos and the full regalia of the Western Reach. Her face had been -- still is -- young, harsh, and cold, and she wore a pirate’s saber at her belt, the hilt bright-polished and the scabbard water-stained. Idalia of the Reach, one of Valdo’s sea-mages, who called down storms on the ships of their enemies, set lightning strikes to the masts and summoned sirens and selkiemores to eat those who plunged into the water.

Jaskier doesn’t realize when he started hiding behind Geralt’s reassuring bulk, only that the witcher had shifted to shelter him, trapped one hand against his side in a silent gesture of comfort. He’d thought she was there for the soldiers, only for the soldiers, until--

“Julian Alfred Pankratz de Lettenhove!” she snapped, bright and ringing, and he can remember the way the silence went deep. There was only ever one Pankratz, after all, only that had never been true. “Julian, I know you’re here, and there are matters to discuss.”

He’d thought about hiding, but if she’d found him here, she could find him sitting behind Geralt easily enough. So he’d slipped away, strode into the middle of the room, held his head high while Geralt looked on with every line of his body shocked to the bone -- and was abruptly portaled to his brother’s bedside, witcher and all.

Valdo had seemed so much smaller, in death.

He’d shuddered his way through the explanation of how he’d died -- lockjaw, somehow darkly fitting that he should die of something so pathetic -- and had sat, numbly, while Idalia and the rest of his brother’s advisors argued about the future of the empire. She wanted him to become the new emperor, with his brother’s blood claim, while each of them seemed to be convinced that they would make the best new pirate king, and Jaskier sat there and remembered all the miles and miles of killing grounds and the burning forests and the beaches littered with the wrecked ships of once-proud Skellige, and realized that if any of these so-called advisors took the throne that it would only get worse. They’d been ambitious, bloodthirsty to a man, far too eager for conquest and glory

He’d taken Idalia’s offer, half out of some misplaced idea that he could change things, that he could change the course of the world with the power his brother left him and half out of a fear for his own life, and a month later when it was all done, his brother burned and his own head crowned, Geralt had said--

“I can’t stay.”

The morning comes, all too soon.

He wakes to Geralt still in his bed and Jaromir knocking at his door loud and strident until Jaskier heaves it open with a snarl. “My Lord Julian, have you no idea what you’ve done--” and Jaskier slams it shut in his face and locks it for good measure. Geralt is watching him from the bed, all of his edges sleep-softened, and Jaskier leans down and kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him until the ache in his chest is something manageable again, until the lines of pain along his witcher’s body are eased.

He breaks away to breathe, and Geralt laces fingers though his hair. “Jaskier.”

“Can we-- not? I know what you’re going to say, Geralt, and I--”

“I can’t stay, Jaskier.”

“I’d like to pretend for a-- a little bit,” and Geralt sighs and tucks his nose into Jaskier’s hair.

“They need me elsewhere.”

“I need you here,” and Jaskier knows he’s being petulant, knows it’s only the same argument that they had a decade ago but gods, he’s missed Geralt more than he can say.

“You don’t, Jaskier,” and Geralt’s voice is -- oh, it’s impossibly gentle, the way he’s been here, the way he’s always been.

Jaskier wants to strike him, but--

--but Geralt’s hands are trembling, ever so finely, where they press against his shoulder blades and so all he can do is drop his forehead to Geralt’s sternum and say, softly, “I know.”

“I thought it would be better,” Geralt says into the silence. “To make it a clean break. I’d remember you fondly, and you wouldn’t trouble yourself with a witcher. You wouldn’t have me as a weakness.” It’s a fair argument, all things considered. His brother’s generals were traditionalists, of the sort that would refuse to follow anyone with his… choice of lovers, and he has no doubt that if Idalia or any of her successors had thought he still cared a whit for the witcher Geralt would have been brought to the keep in chains years ago. He needed to be untouchable, and even a witcher is vulnerable. Had they threatened Geralt, he--

Well, suffice to say the him of ten years ago wouldn’t have had the power to simply command his release. He would have done anything, anything, to see him safe and well, and there were a great many people who would have gladly used that to their advantage. He broke all ties, pretended his witcher was nothing more than a bit of fun, if that, a warm body for a callous Pankratz son, and they were all too used to Valdo to question it.

“You were supposed to forget about me,” Geralt finishes, softly, and Jaskier can’t help but tip his forehead against Geralt’s

“As if my heart has ever listened to my head,” Jaskier says, “and as if I could ever stop loving you.”

For once his eyes are dry of tears -- he must have used them all up in the night. He kisses Geralt again, slow and sweet and sorrowful, lingering a heartbeat longer than he normally might where he can feel Geralt’s breath against his own, lips just barely brushing.

“I know,” barely a breath, “and I’m sorry I didn’t know earlier.” He can feel the faintest of smiles pressed against his skin “For what it’s worth, I never stopped loving you either,” Geralt says.

Jaskier smiles back, and pulls away.

“I’ll talk to Jaromir, see if we can’t find an armorer for you. Your swords?” It’s jarring, but he has to say something before he drags Geralt right back down into his bed and never lets him leave, damn the consequences.

“The Redanians brought them along.”

Jaskier hums, rubs his thumb over the smooth calluses on his fingertips. “I’ll talk to Jaromir about that too, then.” Already he’s slipping back into emperor mode, into the driving push for the next thing and the next and the next without bothering to look back or down or anywhere but blindly forward and hope each leap carries him closer to solid ground. “And you’ll go back on the Path, then?”

“There’s no one else,” Geralt says, and that’s the broken heart of it. No one else, and a world in ruins, and it’s just Jaskier’s luck to fall in love with a man far too noble to leave it all to rot

“I can’t stay.”

They’d felt like a knife to the throat, the words, leaving him stunned speechless and gaping under the weight of a new crown, reaching out even as Geralt stepped back. He’s gone cold, all emotion stripped from him, wrapped under a shell of bitter indifference it took Jaskier years to learn how to crack, and now it’s all back as though none of the last year and a half had ever happened. He can’t make a sound, not even Geralt’s name as the witcher hefts his swords up and over his shoulder.

He’d thought-- well. It apparently hadn’t mattered what he’d thought, because Geralt was about to abandon him--

“Jaskier,” Geralt had said, resting just his fingertips along Jaskier’s jawline. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” His lips were numb, the only sensation the gentle press of Geralt’s hands.

“You’ve seen what it’s like,” with a jerk of his head in the vague direction of the rest of the Continent. “There’s monsters in every village, necrophages on every battlefield.”

“There are other witchers.”

“There aren’t. The Schools were destroyed decades ago; there can’t be more than a dozen of us left. Anywhere.”

“I need you here,” Jaskier said, and clamped the rest of the words tight behind his teeth, or else I think I might collapse under this weight.

“They need me more. I can’t--” and Geralt had huffed, looked away. “You’ve seen what it’s like, and I can’t sit in a palace and eat sweets and be your-- plaything, not when there’s something I can do to help.”

“You’re not--”

“I know. But everyone else would see it that way. Jaskier. I was made to fight the monsters that no one else could fight, and there is no one else. I can’t leave them all to die, not without trying.”

“Damn you,” Jaskier had said, and would have fallen forward if Geralt hadn’t caught him, wrapped one hand around the back of his neck and rested his forehead against Jaskier’s. “Damn you.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jaskier had laughed, then, leaned into the feel of being within the shelter of his witcher’s body one last time. “I don’t suppose I would have fallen in love with you if you hadn’t been the best fucking man I’ve ever known.”

Geralt had pulled him into his arms for real, then, pressed his lips to Jaskier’s forehead in a bruising kiss, knocking his horrid crown askew. “I know you’re strong enough to do this on your own.”

“I love you,” Jaskier had said, and kissed his witcher on the lips one last time, resettled his crown, and turned to be an emperor of half the fucking Continent.

And when Idalia had first thought to control him, he’d avoided her machinations, and when she’d tried to place that first charm over him he’d broken it under running water the way Geralt had shown him, and when she’d spelled his brother’s captains and summoned a selkimore to haunt the entrance to the bay, he’d brokered a deal with the rest of the mages and had her brought to him in chains. She’d been the first of the examples he’d made, and hardly the last, and when the axe fell he’d held his back straight and promised -- well, Geralt, mostly, but also the world, and all the people in the ashes that he’d done this for that he’d make this right.

Somehow, may it take his entire life and more, he’d make this right.

Geralt is gone the next morning, with his swords on his back and a horse from Jaskier’s stables and enough money for a new set of armor in his purse. Jaskier watches him go from the gate, a straight-backed figure with hair that shines like fallen snow underneath the winter sunlight, the silver of his sword-pommels catching the light and sending it glinting up into the sky.

While the road leads straight on, Jaskier entertains the idea of looping his lute over his shoulder and running out to meet him, taking Geralt’s hand up onto the horse’s back (probably already named Roach) and riding off into the wilds of the world again -- and then the road turns and Geralt is gone and Jaskier, dry-eyed, returns to his throne.

There’s the problem of Redania to sort out and their increasingly-more-audacious responses to the treaty, and there’s yet another issue with his brother’s navy that he’ll have to sort out, and he has to interview for the next round of court mages, and he should probably see if he can’t find some sort of solution to the necrophage problem (and if that last is for more selfish reasons than he’d like to admit, he thinks he’s allowed).

Jaromir is waiting for him inside the great hall, pinch-faced as ever. “My Lord Julian.”

“Jaromir.”

“The witcher, sir?” and Jaskier can hear the mingled disapproval and question in his tone.

“Yes, the witcher. Don’t worry, he’ll be long gone by now.”

“And will he be… returning?” and Jaromir’s lips get, somehow, thinner.

That… makes Jaskier pause. Geralt had been gone all these years out of some belief that Jaskier-- wouldn’t miss him, that their time together would have only been a careless fling, but that got conclusively disproven the night before last, and… ah, damn his heart, he can’t afford to hope. Not here.

“No.”

Jaromir nods, tightly. “Then we have business to attend to.”

“Don’t we always,” Jaskier sighs, but he accepts the heavy sheaf of papers the steward hands him anyways and follows him further into the high cold halls of the keep. He has a life, and a throne, and a duty he has sworn himself to, and he will be better than those who came before.

He will.

Broken heart and all. He has lived without Geralt for ten years and he’s still alive -- but damn his foolish heart, he hopes.

Previous / Next

#the witcher #the witcher fic #storm's writing #storm's fic #storytelling #geraskier #warlord!Jaskier #fic recs

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cno-inbminor · 4 years

Text

request: “for akaashi (fluff preferably) based on la la lost you by niki?” for anon

a/n: this ended up being a mix of angst and fluff, mainly bc the song itself is pretty bittersweet. i tried my best, i hope anon still likes this though!

genre: angst, fluff, gn!reader.

warnings: mentions/implications of sex and alcohol

song in reference: la la lost you - niki

Akaashi Keiji was one of the kindest souls to ever grace your life.

You distinctly remember the first night you met him. You and your friends had gone out to a bar in Koreatown on a warm October night. Bokuto, who was dating one of said friends, had invited his own to join. “The more the merrier!” He had howled and you had playfully rolled your eyes at him, but you were curious. On multiple occasions, he had spoken of his best friend and roommate who seemed endlessly busy and “never had time for fun”, and how much he wanted for you all to meet him. This was the one night that he would show, as he had just completed a massive project and felt that he deserved a night out.

Your fingers had been swirling the straw in your rum and coke when Bokuto’s eyes lit up at the person who had walked through the door. “Yo, Akaashi!” He had yelled, waving his arm around so flamboyantly that no one would miss it. And Akaashi Keiji had appeared.

He was ethereal.

LA was a hub for fashion, full of beauties walking down Sunset Boulevard as if it was their own runway. Yet this man before you was dressed in nothing but black, ripped skinny jeans, a black button down over a grey V-neck t-shirt, and you felt that he had stolen the show. His hair had been stylishly disheveled, but even the dim lights of the bar couldn’t hide the color of his eyes. Cobalt blue had stared into your own – you could’ve sworn he was looking right into your soul, but the contact was short-lived as Bokuto stood and pulled him in for a bro hug. The tiny smile on his face had conveyed that he was content in being here, and he left to go get a drink from the bar.

When he returned, the only available seat was across from you. One by one, Bokuto rattled off your names, to which you all had either waved or shook his hand. You settled for the latter with your brightest smile, and when sparks of electricity coursed through your vein at the contact, you did your best to hide its effects on you. Perhaps he had felt the same, but you’ll never know now.

It had been a fun night. Your nerves were getting the best of you, going through your drinks a little faster than usual. On your third glass of rum and coke, Akaashi had taken the liberty of getting a glass of water for you, even ordering a couple of appetizers for the table. “You never buy me food!” Bokuto had cried out while stealing some of the kimchi fries.

“Idiot, who does most of the cooking at home?”

“Okay, maybe, but still! What’s the occasion?”

“I’m expecting a big bonus after this project,” Akaashi had pointed out, though perhaps the tips of his ears were pinked. “Take advantage of my generosity, it doesn’t happen very often.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say. You’re always nice, and you know it.”

Akaashi had purposefully placed the basket of onion rings in front of you, gesturing for you to take the first one. The rest of your friends had curiously watched the interaction, their knowing grins widening when Akaashi watched you intently bite into the fried appetizer and smiled when you expressed your approval.

Akaashi had been the one to take care of you that night, though you were adamant in walking around first to sober up. He had no problem driving, only a couple of beers in his system, but you wanted to ensure that it was completely safe for him. At the time, you also just really wanted some pastries from the nearby bakery and Asian bakeries were practically heaven -- nothing could convince you otherwise. With little inhibitions, you had taken the plunge and linked arms with him, practically dragging him in the right direction. You had missed the blush on his cheeks, and to most others, you two looked like any other couple enjoying the night.

He had indulged in your rambling and broken thoughts, carrying on an easy conversation with you. He had even paid for the slice of a chocolate Swiss roll cake you wanted, getting a cappuccino to-go for himself.

“You have to let me pay you back,” you had grumbled in the passenger seat of his car: a dark grey, modest Toyota Corolla that was a few years old, added to the picture you were trying to paint of him. “Even if you’re expecting a bonus, I wanna make it up to you.”

“Take my number then,” he replied without missing a beat, his eyes bored into his phone while typing out your address into the navigation app. “Or Venmo, but I can’t guarantee that I won’t try to return it to you.”

“So I have to make excuses to see you then,” you mumbled under your breath. But Akaashi must have the hearing of a bat, because right after you had said those words, he had chuckled and looked over at you with a twinkle in his eyes.

“You don’t need to.”

And thus began a wonderful three-year relationship.

You honestly wish it had been a more painful break-up. Perhaps it would’ve made you miss him less.

Akaashi had been watching you sleep, your naked body wrapped in his sheets and his finger lightly tracing circles on your arm. The action must have woken you up, your body stirring and eyelids fighting exhaustion. Akaashi’s heart melted at the smile you offered him – as much as you had referred to him as an angel, he felt that nothing was more beautiful than the sight before him shrouded in the rays of the California sun. “Good morning, love,” he cooed.

“G’morning, Keiji,” you mumbled and snuggled into him. His arms wrapped around your waist and he planted a kiss on your nose, causing you to giggle. If he could have you here for eternity, he’d trade over his soul in a heartbeat. “What’s our plan for today?” You sleepily asked.

“I can make some breakfast, if you’d like. Or we can go get some dim sum?” He proposed.

“Hmmm, as good as dim sum sounds, I want to make breakfast for you, y’know. A little thank you for last night.”

“Enjoyed it that much?” He smirked, eyes drinking in the number of love bites he had left on your body.

“Don’t get cocky,” you teased, booping his nose with a finger before you rolled out of bed. Akaashi appreciatively watched the scene before him, especially as you bent over to pick up the button down he wore the night before and discarded on the ground. You rifled through his drawers to grab some clean underwear you purposefully left there, sliding it on before leaving for the kitchen.

About twenty minutes later, Akaashi had wrapped his arms around you from behind, watching you flip pancakes. His chin rested on your shoulder and his lips occasionally left kisses on your neck. The sinking of lead in his heart began to grow heavier, even as you handed him a plate, butter and syrup already put on just the way he liked it. It wasn’t until you were almost done eating when he had broached the topic.

“They’re giving me a promotion.”

You had paused in sipping your coffee. “Keiji, that’s amazing! You’ve been working so hard for this, I’m so proud of you!”

“I know, it’s great to finally be acknowledged. But…they want me to move. To New York City.”

“Oh.”

Akaashi gnawed on his bottom lip in anxiety, watching all the emotions process on your face. He watched you struggle to find the right words, and his heart dropped when you mustered the best supportive smile you could.

“Let’s make the most of the time we have left then.”

In those few months, Akaashi began to understand the different measurements of time. No longer was it measured in just seconds and minutes. Akaashi began to measure it in the number of days he could still hold your hand, the number of times he could pull you in a hug, the moments when you would lean over the back of his chair to observe his work. How many more kisses could he leave on your cheek? How many more smiles would he see in person before they were just in an electronic screen?

In all fairness, the two of you had tried to make it work. But with his promotion, he had been busier than ever, completing projects, building rapport with his new team, getting used to the city. Coupled with your own hectic life, a 3-hour time difference was just enough to drive a nail into the coffin. There was no fighting, no screaming. Just calm acceptance that perhaps, this wasn’t going to work out.

“I’m so sorry,” he had whispered over the phone, nearly on the verge of tears.

“It’s okay,” you had softly replied and Akaashi wanted to explode. To you, there was nothing he could do wrong. Everything was always okay with you when it came to him, and for once, he wanted you to tell him it wasn’t. He didn’t have the gall to voice his frustration – after all, wasn’t it his fault anyways? “Keiji, just…let me know if you ever need anything, okay? I’m here for you.”

“You’re too good to me,” and that was his way of acknowledging you. The phone call ended with gentle goodbyes, yet it took every cell in his body to not fling the phone against his apartment wall.

5 months later, you find yourself driving down Highway 1 on a fall afternoon. Though it’s full of curves and loops, the journey is freeing and calming with the view of the ocean right by you. There is serenity in the waves that crashes against the cliffs, and nothing is more beautiful than a California sunset. Even though the wind often howls over the sea and blows your hair into a disarray, you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Your hands steer your car into a resting spot and shift the gear into park. The keys leave the ignition and you collapse into the back of your seat, eyes turning to appreciate the view in front of you. Just like the many other days since, your mind drifts to thoughts of Akaashi.

Does he regret breaking it off? Does he miss you as much as you do him? Does he wish that he had fought harder for your relationship?

You almost laugh to yourself – Akaashi had always loved driving to places with you, one hand on your thigh and the other on the steering wheel. The number of times he had taken you to the Malibu beach to watch the sunsets was astronomical in your three years. Yet he had traded it all for the shadowy undergrounds of the New York subways, his car sold to help with moving expenses, and walking through the crowded streets. The closest he would ever get to driving was sitting in taxis, but stuck in traffic with a stranger was, perhaps, less than ideal for him. New York City is charming in its own way, you agree. But LA was different, and LA was where it had all begun for you two.

Akaashi often gets tagged in pictures with other women, their grins wide and skin glinting from the flash of the camera. Whether they’re co-workers or new partners in his life, you can’t help but wish for his happiness. There was little reason to be bitter, to hope that he experiences the pain of missing what he lost. You only wished that New York City had truly welcomed him into its embrace, treating him with the same love you had given. After all, it was very unlikely that he would ever return to the city of angels. Your inner demons would become solely yours to deal with, nothing for him to worry about any longer.

And for the first time in months, you felt at peace. You were ready to take the leap and regain the last piece of closure. Fishing your phone from the cupholder, you felt lucky that you still had a couple of bars of signal – it’s not too late in New York, and Akaashi would most likely still be awake. Your thumb taps and scrolls across your screen until you find his number, hesitating slightly before hitting the call button. Too nervous to hold the phone to your ear, you turn on the speaker and hear the dial tones echo in your car.

There’s a pause, a click, a rustle of papers, then, “—hello?”

A small smile graces your complexion, your eyes catching the view of the sun setting over the horizon of the ocean. The pang in your heart was akin to the feeling of missing a platonic friend rather than an ex-boyfriend. You were healing.

“Hey, Keiji. How are you doing?”

fin

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi fluff #akaashi angst #akaashi #keiji #akaashi keiji #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #akaashi x you #haikyuu x you

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

Text

The Wedding (End): Black Swan Bay Nightmare

We’re almost done with this. HOLY HECK. My brain is melting out my ears on how to finish this series in the most impactful way. MC gonna hit the end of this story like a METEOR. Just you wait!

@rurifangirl

You startle awake with a gasp. You’re lying in the snow. The breeze is frigid, but you’re well protected in layers of warm clothing and fur. You don’t remember falling asleep but you immediately know where you are.

Black Swan Bay, 1991, Christmas Eve.

Of all the orphans that day, you were the oldest and the number 3 ranking. You were tall, muscular, but your body was not womanly like Khorkina. Your hair was black as soot and your eyes were charcoal. You weren't a white icy queen, like Renata. So you had no one to dance with you at the party.

The blizzard that day was very intense. The wind howled around you like a screaming demon. But you stood tall against it, looking into the distance. Not a ray of light could be seen in the sky. The world was plunged into a thick darkness and the whirlwind swept the snow powder into a white dragon in the sky. Black Swan Harbor closed the main entrance. All the doors and windows were boarded up so that the snowstorm would not affect the atmosphere of the Christmas party.

You walk toward the recreation building, Golden Hall, where the party was being held. You’re not hampered by the snow or the wind. You were a hybrid and this great storm was only a mild inconvenience for you. You lift your head and look behind you. Your instincts were trained and always good. You could sense when you were being followed. You wait for several seconds, but nothing happens. You turn around and continue to walk.

You push open the door, and the warm air and music poured in, shards of gold leaf flew in the air, and the golden hall was brilliantly lit.

Soldiers played accordions and young girls sang and danced. Children gathered around the huge Christmas tree to make wishes and tiptoe to reach the gifts on it. The scent of beef soup, baked sweet cakes and the perfume of women filled the air. The appearance of the Doctor sparked a tidal wave of applause as the Doctor greeted everyone with his hands raised.

"My dear friends, today is Christmas and an important day for Black Swan Harbor. Our friend Major Bondarev from Moscow has confirmed to me that our research work has been highly commended by our superiors! Soon we will be able to go home in groups to visit our families. Everyone here will be rewarded, you will have military medals and be able to go to the Caspian Sea for vacations! You are a credit to your country! Let's sing and dance! On this wonderful night!"

You stand apart from it all. Your heart filled with a terrible rage and sadness. Liar. He’s a liar. He was lying this whole time.

The golden hall was getting more and more lively. The room was getting warmer. The young people were dancing the sailor dance. They got so hot that they took off their uniforms and threw them aside. The nurses took off their outer clothes, showing the white lace of their underwear under their undershirts.

They had all been drinking a lot, and their eyes were nakedly provocative. The smell of hormones overpowered the smell of perfume, stimulating everyone's body to redden. They danced and embraced. The soldiers put their hands in the undershirt of the nurses, they bit each other's lips like lovers and bloodthirsty beasts.

The children also stirred up, following the adults' example and hugging each other in a face-to-face dance. Anton and Khorkina are eighteen years old, Yakov is sixteen years old, and look very different from the thin and small Renata. The boys' upper lips had grown moustaches. While the girls' breasts had filled out and their waists swayed lightly as they walked.

You press yourself to the wall, but they still come at you, hands searching, not asking you to dance but chasing you! You cover yourself with your hands, swatting away their fingers, slapping their faces. Their faces are horrific and stretched into rictus grins. Their eyes are wide and blood shot.

You flee. You run into the night!

A loud bang! And you throw yourself to the ground. A ball of flames is rising from the laboratory building, red and gold, mixed with black smoke. Debris is thrown into the air, streaming fire behind them like fireworks.

Every single building went up in flames like this. But everyone was in the dance hall. Finally, the Dance hall itself went up.

“Renata! Renata!” You are running and the shadow is chasing you, faster and faster! You skid to a halt.

Four children are on a dog sled. They’re trying to run. But Bondarev is approaching them. Bondarev pulls a gun. With expert precision, he puts a bullet into their hearts. One for each child. You fall to your knees and that’s what saves you. Visibility is down and you don’t move as he looks around. Next to his foot is a small piece of chocolate. Vera.

A hand takes yours. It’s Renata. You crawl away and she leads you back to another sled. This sled was pulling something large and very heavy. Along with your friend Z, who smiled at you sleepily. He wasn’t tall and proud. He was weak and couldn’t even walk. He looked at you directly and asked. “Who is that?”

Suddenly, everything stops. The wind, the snow, Renata, the explosion. Time completely stands still and you’re the only one moving.

“Who… is… that?” Z asks again.

This was a dream. You knew what was going to happen next. A big explosion, bigger than you’ve ever seen in your life even up until today, would turn all the Black Swan Bay into ashes. You and Renata would be shot from a helicopter. Renata would push you into the icy sea.

But despite your mind going through the beats, the image before you didn’t change. You follow Z’s gaze and you see a man in a tuxedo looking bewildered. “Ruri…?” You tilt your head. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

The dream ends. You open your eyes. It’s still dark, but the air is warm. Your chest and stomach hurt. You’re staring into the eyes of Ruri Kazama. Those swirling hypnotic mandarin shapes were the last thing you saw when you went to sleep. “Where am I?”

Ruri Kazama does not answer. “How did you break it?”

“Huh?”

“How did you break it?” Ruri’s voice was a low threatening growl. “No one has ever broken free from me.”

“Break… what?”

You’re surrounded by deep humid forest. The air was alive with insect sounds and sounds from croaking frogs, and night birds, nothing like the silent howling of the winds of Siberia. The sky was still dark and the wind still blew and the rain still fell. Ruri Kazama is staring at you.

His bone spines are still embedded in your body, pumping a steady supply of clean blood to keep you from turning into a deadpool and dying. You don’t remember when you fell asleep or how long you’d been out. “Where are we?” You ask again.

“Tama River area. It’s all woodlands here. Very isolated from Tokyo. I’m taking you to where God will awaken.” He finally speaks.

“Okay. What about Herzog?”

“He won’t touch you. He needs me. He will honor my request to have you there with me.”

You look down and see that you’re high in a tree, several yards off the ground. Ruri Kazama’s long white hair drapes like fine cloth behind him. Ruri Kazama has changed from his tuxedo to the great colorful kimono of the stage. You’re still in your wedding dress, but the skirt has been cut shorter so as not to be so unwieldy.

He crouches and then jumps, hovering over the canopy of green leaves. He jumps from tree to tree like someone dancing over stones to cross a river. He’s so graceful, his long hair sails behind him like a tropical bird. These mighty leaps were like the rocking of a rocking chai. Even though he would jump over twenty meters at a time, he landed with silent grace. You found it soothing.

Once Ruri Kazama killed Herzog - again - you wondered what he would do after that. What was his end game? Even though he was lovely as a human, it turned out that he had the same philosophy as Herzog. The winners devour the losers without mercy. You didn’t think there was any real limit to his killing. Even though he said he would go back and become a performer of Kabuki, it was far more likely that he would go back and kill his brother and every Hydra member. Cassell would send their members after him and he would kill them all too… or die.

Who would he not kill? Who would not hunt him? Both of those lists seemed to begin and end with your name. You were the last person in the world he wanted. You were the last one in the world he trusted.

All noise in the forest has fallen silent. Dawn is breaking but it’s still dark with clouds. There are no birds. The wind rattles the naked treetops. When you turn and look, everything is covered in a heavy layer of what looks like snow that has miraculously endured the heavy rain. On closer inspection, it looks more like spider silk. The blanket stretches as far as the eye can see. Under the blanket is a thick layer of dead leaves as though autumn came and the trees dropped all their leaves in a matter of hours.

“We’re here.”

“Everything… looks dead.” You say. “What’s are those white threads?”

Ruri is accustomed to explaining things to you now. “It’s a growth from God. It’s feeding on all the surrounding life. It detects a heartbeat and quickly cocoons it. We have to keep moving or we will be swallowed as well.”

You were on the edge of the silky, fungal growth. Looking further into the woods, you would see that the trees ahead have been completely encased like cocooning insects. Even the ground was covered. “How are we going to make it through all that?”

A loud thumping sounds overhead. Ruri stands up as a helicopter flies low. Lightning flashes and you see it clearly in relief against the sky.

“Hold on.”

He unsheathes his sword and the power from it lifts him in the air with an extra burst of height and speed. The ground races away from you and the black helicopter rushes towards you. The open cockpit comes into view and he lands cleanly without a sound. A seat was open so he sat himself down as though he were a simple passenger.

"No. That's something like spider silk!" The pilot said. He spoke in a quivering fearful voice, like he was seeing a ghost. But the ghost was behind him. He was going to die. He didn’t deserve it. But you couldn’t stop Ruri.

Not yet.

You only watch as Viper Fang appears in his hand and pierces the copilot clean through the head, his blood filling his flight helmet.

"You… who are you? How did you get up here?" The pilot turns in a panic and you see he’s wearing a Cassell College badge and what looks like a camera on his head. The black lens shimmers like an eye. It would see you, attached to Ruri Kazama.

Viper Fang moves so fast, the cherry-red blade seems to grow from his heart in a flash. You couldn’t speak out loud but you mouth the words as clearly as you can to the camera. “Caesar. Don’t worry about me. Thank you. Goodbye.”

A terrible sound resounded through the helicopter, the sound of a long sword being drawn from a heart, the blood spurting, sounding like wind.

You weren’t on the helicopter for long. It turned out you were less than one kilometer from the great hole in the ground that held the underground lake full of mercury. Without a care, Ruri Kazama leaped from the helicopter. You look up and watch it fly away to crash somewhere. The ground rushes towards you but Ruri uses Viper Fang against the ground, buffering your descent politely before landing. You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in his shoulder, using your hair as a veil to look through. All the members of the Devil Clan around you are shocked by your sudden appearance. Ruri Kazama stood still like a demon. His eyes glowing in the steady downpour, daring anyone to approach. But no one does. Quite the opposite. They are curious about you, but the killing aura is so strong they swallow that curiosity and decide that some answers aren’t worth dying over.

The well is many meters across and spanned by a large cross beam. Ruri walks over it and stands there, holding onto you.

White filaments crawl all over the inner walls of the water storage wells. They grow from the bottom, like the mycelium of some kind of mold. These mycelia can not only stain soil and trees, but can even penetrate steel. They can grow to several meters long, hanging on steel beams or trees, like countless slender hands swaying in the wind.

On the cross beam, Ruri seemed to fall asleep, his long hair drenched by the rain. There was nothing to do but wait. His eyes were open but empty. He was like one of the wooden doll children. He would move when instructed. He didn't say anything and didn't listen. You immediately adopt that empty eyed posture. It is as familiar to you as a sort of meditation. The lightning flashes again and you see a smile on his pale empty eyed face.

The people working in the well were wearing protective clothing with extremely corrosion-resistant coatings to protect them from being stained by the white silk. The pumps are working at full capacity and twelve streams of blood red water are pouring into the deep well. This chemical reagent was mixed with the serum extracted from the deadpool fetuses.

The bones of dragon-like and snake-like corpses were soaked in the mercury tainted well, and the bottom of the well was still filled with the deadly mercury vapor, so the Hydra members did not have time to explore the well thoroughly. The Iwarui Institute concluded that there was no longer any living thing in the well, but right after they left, a large number of bubbles were rising from the bottom of the water, as if something was spitting bubbles at the bottom of the well.

Humans always repeatedly make this kind of mistake. They never really understand the dragons, always imagining them as creatures similar to themselves.

White bubbles piled up on the surface of the water like foam. The heavy smell of blood filled the deep well and the water temperature gradually increased to near boiling. Millions of dead lung snails floated up with the bubbles. Their stench from being cooked alive and the smell of blood became a putrid aroma, enough to make an ordinary person gag. The pool of boiling water was like a soup pot full of flies.

The King General Herzog strolls along the beam after Ruri Kazama and praises him in a poet-like tone: "Smell it? This birthing smell! This is the smell of life being born! That great life is waking up! This day Satan returns from hell to earth, and it will cleanse this rotten and bony world with fire, and a new world will be reborn by fire."

He stopped. Ruri stared at him with a clear threat.

“Oh come now, won’t you let me see her? It’s been so long!” He pleads.

After a moment’s consideration, Ruri pulled back the veil of your hair. You were staring at Herzog with your tongue out and your eyes crossed.

Dr. Herzog leaned back and clutched his stomach in roaring laughter. He staggered and slapped his knee, whooping and hollering like a mad man. “It’s been so long, MC. You haven’t changed one bit! Hahaha! Hahahahahaha!” He lifts his mask slightly to wipe away a tear. “Never one to take anything too seriously.”

Ruri Kazama did not answer. He just smiled grimly, as if he was incomparably joyful.

“The god has awakened. Now please lend it your precious blood for a moment and pay homage to the newborn god." The king general patted Ruri Kazama's shoulder while still chuckling at you.

And just like that, you were accepted onto what you were sure would end up a killing field like Black Swan Bay. Herzog will not let anyone leave this place alive. You were sure of it. But you play along and smile. Just like in Black Swan Bay, he will hype everyone up that they’ll be able to go home. Everything will be amazing. And then...

Boom.

Ruri Kazama drew his long knife and slit his wrist, pouring his blood into the deep well. It was only a few hundred milliliters of blood, and there should be no trace at all after being diluted by the large amount of water in the well, but at the precise moment those blood beads touched the surface of the water, the whole red well shook, as if something huge was stretching its body in the depths of the mercury.

"Sonar detects large object coming up to the surface!" The engineers working at the bottom of the well stepped back in fear, leaning their backs against the well wall.

The King let out a large dramatic shout. "Let's welcome the return of God!''

#Dragon Raja

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catgirlthecrazy · 4 years

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To Love and To Cherish

After being extremely mean to Jon and Martin in my last fic, I had to make it up to them with 2,000 words of domestic softness (and a side helping of character development)

AO3

Summary: What if the Scottish Honeymoon lasted through retirement?

***

Martin was washing dishes when the fog rolled in. He didn't notice it right away. He was bent over the kitchen sink and didn't see much beyond the plates and soapy water. It wasn't until Martin straightened to work a kink out of his back that he saw the soft white curtains of vapor drifting across the yard. And Jon was down in the village at the moment, and hadn't said when he planned to come home.

When he'd first come to Scotland for years ago, that had been enough to send him into a panic attack. Slumped against the kitchen counter, knees hugged to his chest, sweating and struggling to breathe for god knew how long until Jon came home and found him like that. He'd held Martin's hand, softly rubbing circles in his palm. Come on Martin, breathe with me, he'd said, voice soft and steady as a highland cow. Breathe in to a count of ten.

Decades had passed since then. Somewhat less since his last real panic attack. Martin knew now, with a rock solid certainty, that Jon would come back. He knew he had friends waiting for him.

Still. Martin Blackwood might not be Lonely anymore, but that didn't mean the scars couldn't ache in the wrong weather. He stared out the window into the fog, hands still dripping with suds. He could remember the day when that fog had filled his eyes and lungs and heart and mind. When he'd been certain that no one in the world cared if he lived or died, and that he would spend the rest of eternity with that numbing fog. Without even the mercy of death to look forward to.

Martin closed his eyes and breathed in. One. Two. He thought of Sophie and Rasheed, who ran the chemist's shop down in the village and invited them to dinner every once a week. Three. Four. Their children, Maryam and Noah, who Martin had known since they came home from the hospital and were now graduated from university. Five. Six. Robin and Daniel, who ran the pub that Jon and Martin went to every Wednesday, and had done so ever since taking it over from Robin's father ten years ago. Seven. Eight. Georgie and Melanie, who hosted Christmas every year down in London. Nine. Ten. Daisy and Basira, who came up to visit for two weeks every summer. Now hold.

Jon. Who woke up beside him every morning. Who could go on and on about the strangest things. Whose brusque demeanor hid a surprising depth of kindness that still delighted Martin even to this day. Who'd plunged himself into that cold and numbing fog to save Martin, and pulled him out again with love. Who'd given up his own sight for a life with Martin, away from eyes and fear. Martin breathed out to another count of ten. He opened his eyes, and the fog was just fog. Just water vapor brought about by a closeness of air temperature and dew point. He went back to washing dishes.

Some time later, something meowed at his feet. Martin looked down and smiled. "Hello Percy," he said to the regal ball of fluff twining itself around his ankles. Percy looked up and meowed again.

"Don't give me that. It's not dinner time for another hour."

Percy gave him a withering look and meowed again, as if to say You are most certainly mistaken. Your clocks must be running slow.

"I think you'll find it's your clock that needs winding, not mine."

Another plaintive meow. You must make an exception! Can you not see how I am malnourished and dying?

"Not falling for that one either."

Percy gave him a look of pure pleading, and mewed.

"That won't work on me. Jon's the cat person, not me."

Percy's expression grew more plaintive. He mewed pitifully. Martin turned back to his dishwashing before he could give into weakness.

Percy's full name was Sergeant Major Percival Pike. The naming of cats was one thing Jon and Martin had never really been able to see eye to eye on. One day many years ago, Jon had come home with a stray kitten and informed Martin that they were calling her The Commandant. Martin hadn't had the heart to argue at the time. Jon had been so adorably besotted with the tiny thing, how could he tell him no? But Martin always felt a little ridiculous calling such a squeaky little fuzzball by such a weighty title. So he'd nicknamed her Manda, and called her that until she passed away from old age in front of the fireplace. Jon had only lightly teased him for it, and Manda didn't seem to mind answering to two different names.

When they adopted their second cat, three years after rescuing Manda, Jon had wanted to name him Lord Chancellor. This time, Martin put his foot down.

Please Jon, can't we give the cat a normal name?

Jon scoffed. What self respecting cat would accept a normal name?

You think a cat's going to care if it's called Whiskers? Or Mittens? Or Fluffy?

Yes, and their owners should be hanged for lack of creativity.

In the end, they compromised, and the cat was dubbed Lord Chancellor Reginald Roberts III. Martin called him Reggie. And so it continued for every subsequent cat they owned, down to their current pair. In addition to the Sergeant Major aka Percy, they were also graced with the presence of Brigadier General Eleanor Evans, aka Ellie. People who didn't know them well sometimes assumed they actually had four cats instead of two.

The scraping of a white cane on concrete announced Jon coming up the front walk. Percy alerted to the sound and trotted over to the front door to wait. A moment later Jon came in, Ellie following closely on his heels like a mother shepherding a slow kitten. She did that often these days. There had been a time some years ago when Jon had been clipped by a drunk driver while walking up the lane, fallen into a ditch, and broken his leg. Ellie had found him on her daily ramble outside, then gone home to Martin and refused to stop screeching until he followed her to see what the problem was. She had appointed herself Jon's official outdoor chaperone ever since. Jon didn't put up with overprotectiveness from humans, but apparently he could tolerate it in cats just fine.

"Sophie and Rasheed say hello," Jon said. He shuffled over to the counter and set down two bags. One had the logo of the chemist's shop, containing the month's assorted prescriptions (arthritis medications for Jon, blood pressure and thyroid medications for Martin). The other had a container of something thick and brown and spicy-smelling. "They insisted on giving us some of their leftover curry, so I think we're having that tonight, unless you have any objections."

Martin smiled. Percy leaned his front paws on the counter walls and meowed insistently, as if to say Yes, that is clearly meant for me, please serve it up straight away. "Sounds better than omelettes. I'll go put on some rice." He leaned in to kiss Jon on the cheek.

***

The curry was excellent. Rich and warm and exactly as spicy as Jon liked it. After dinner found him and Martin on the couch, Jon leaning sleepily into Martin's shoulder. The fabric of Martin's sweater was soft against Jon's cheek, and it smelled faintly of lavender scented soap. Somewhere close by, the Sergeant Major was purring like a well oiled car engine. No doubt he was using Martin's lap as his own personal heated cat bed. Good taste in laps, that cat.

"Let's see, where did we leave off," Martin said. Jon heard the distinctive paper scrape of flipping pages. Real paper books were something of a rarity these days, but Martin wouldn't hear of replacing his collection with more convenient electronic versions. Jon couldn't afford to be as picky. Paper books were satisfying to hold, but they didn't come with built in text-to-speech software. Except when Martin owned those books, then they sort of did.

"Ah, here we are." Martin cleared his throat.

"Nevertheless I long—I pine, all my days—

to travel home and see the dawn of my return.

And if a god will wreck me yet again on the wine-dark sea,

I can bear that too, with a spirit tempered to endure."

Martin read in a calm, gentle voice. A slight shift in the cushions told him the Brigadier General was settling herself down above them on top of the couch. Aloof, but still part of things. With care, Jon reached up, found her chin, and offered scritches. The Brigadier General graciously accepted. What a picture they must make.

Jon didn't actually know what Martin looked like anymore. That was a statement that was true on a couple of different levels. Jon's mental image of Martin was still of a smiling, round-faced man with freckles in his late twenties. Jon knew Martin couldn't look like that anymore. His skin was dry and papery, his arms soft and flabby his hair thin and wispy and bald on top. And that was before considering the visual changes that other people (including Martin) commented on, like white hair and liver spots. Jon tried to overlay those facts onto his mental image of Martin, like a police artist trying to age up a photo of a long-missing person. But Jon would never know how closely that image matched the real thing.

On a deeper level though, Jon wasn't even sure if his image of young Martin was still accurate anymore. He'd made a point of memorizing every feature of Martin's face the day he'd decided to take his own sight. Every night for weeks after that, he'd conjured up the image in his mind, gone over every single detail with a mental microscope. He'd hoped that by sheer repetition Martin's face would wear a groove on his memory that could not be wiped away. But memory didn't work like that. Like an image that had been through the photocopier too many times, each act of recall changed the memory, altering and embellishing it until it was a caricature of its original form.

Once, that would have horrified Jon. He'd already had Sasha's face stolen from him, and no amount of terrible eldritch knowing power had been able to retrieve that knowledge for him. The thought of losing Martin's face? That had kept him up nights in a cold sweat. But if the decades since had taught him anything, it was this: the Not Them might have stolen Sasha's face from him, but it had also stolen every other part of her. Her voice, her laugh, even her manner. Jon still had every other part of Martin, waking up beside him each morning.

Jon awoke to gentle shaking. "Jon? Jon, you'll get a crick in your back if you fall asleep like that."

Jon grumbled and sat up. His spine screeched at him for forcing it back into a normal alignment. He grimaced. "What time is it?"

"Half past nine. You want to go to bed? Or I could make Percy let you have my lap."

Half past nine. In his younger days that barely counted as night. One of the lesser known adjustments of old age was the way it had completely obliterated his night owl tendencies. Jon considered Martin's offer. One last nap on his beloved's lap before moving to bed? "Tempting. But I think if I stay much longer I'll stick to it permanently."

With some considerable effort, Jon levered himself out of the couch. He offered a hand to help Martin up, which he readily took. "C'mere a minute," Martin said, tugging Jon gently back before Jon could turn towards the bedroom. Martin placed a hand under Jon's chin and tilted it up slightly. The gesture was both invitation and request, codified through decades of habit together. If the answer was no, Jon just needed to pull away, and that would be that.

Instead, Jon leaned in. There was the subtle but unmistakeable crackle of electricity that came before their lips met. Martin pressed his mouth into Jon's with a somewhat surprising level of intensity. Had something happened while he'd been out that day? Well, if it had, Martin would tell him. Or he wouldn't, if he didn't want to. Either way, it wasn't something Jon needed to know. Jon reached up to caress one cheek. It was dry and cracked, but covered in a soft peach fuzz he'd always been fond of. His other hand stretched around Martin's back, still soft and warm and huggable as an overlarge teddy bear. Jon might not know what Martin looked like anymore. But he didn't need to.

#jonmartin #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #my fanfic #i will handwave as much canon as I have to to give these boys the soft ending they deserve

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chouetteffraie · 4 years

Text

Early Morning Wake Up Call

Hi I know I have a million other things I could be writing but I needed some soft dad atsu I’m sorry

i’m also sorry for the terrible title it’s 2 am and I’m TIRED.

Anyway, I hope this is a good introduction to Hiroki!! A huge thank you to my dear friend @local-himbo for inventing this magic babie and @dumbgaybirch for always being down to scream about him with me!!

Don’t worry, this is all Dazatsu fluff. It’s mainly Atsushi + babie fluff, but still!! Sweet boys.

I hope you enjoy! Please tell me what you think!! Without further ado, meet HIroki!

---

An incessant noise rang in the background of Atsushi’s thoughts, drifting in and out of focus like a smudged camera lens. He shut his eyes tighter and gripped the pillow, rolling his face into it as if that would help him block out the world. Today was his off day, and the warmth radiating from the body next to him- a warmth he had worked tirelessly to try and re-instill, one he would continue to work tirelessly to keep alive- was almost too inviting to leave. The noise grew louder, more ferocious, and once Atsushi cleared his mind and realized what it was, he ran a hand down his face and grumbled to himself as he sat up.

He cast a parting glance at the messy mop of brown hair resting on the pillow beside his, watching Dazai’s peaceful face until he noticed the faintest twitch. Even if he’s been sleeping better lately, Atsushi didn’t want to risk waking him up this early. He deserved to rest.

Sighing, he padded to a separate room in the apartment until he reached the cries, pushing open a door quietly and bending to reach inside a crib. Carefully, clumsily, and with the characteristic hesitance of a new father who’d barely met a baby before having one, Atsushi raised the bundled baby up and tucked him to his chest. Still crying out as loud as his little lungs would let him, the baby wriggled in Atsushi’s arms as he tried to nestle him in the crook of his arms. Quietly shushing and rocking him, Atsushi sighed and padded to the kitchen, crossing the doorway to his bedroom as quickly as possible.

Once in the kitchen, Atsushi warmed up a bottle and hummed beneath his breath as he rocked the baby, hoping he wouldn’t wake up his husband in the other room. “There, there, Hiroki,” he mumbled quietly, using one hand to gently stroke a small, red cheek. It wasn’t until the bottle was ready and he was pressing it gently against Hiroki’s mouth that he got some relief from the cries. They were replace by soft murmurs and coos while tiny hands tried to grab at the bottle, and Atsushi smiled as his shoulders sagged in relief.

“You’re a loud little guy, aren’t you?” Atsushi asked, craning his neck to watch Hiroki eat. Hiroki only seemed interested in the bottle, eyes crossing slightly as he watched the liquid slosh around the bottle. With a soft chuckle, Atsushi added, “But you’re not very picky, which makes my job a lot easier.”

Atsushi lowered himself on a chair, bringing his feet up to tuck them beneath his legs. The floor was still cold, the early morning sun not yet strong enough to warm them up. For a moment, he worried over Hiroki and wondered if he was warm enough, yet he seemed perfectly content eating his breakfast, so Atsushi let that thought leave his mind with ease. Carefully easing himself back, Atsushi sighed out loud again and tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling.

It was hard to believe that he was living in reality sometimes. When he was still a little small for his age despite rounding out and eating well for almost as long as he didn’t; when he still felt as inexperienced as he did when he was eighteen - how could he be here, with a nice roof over his head, food in the cabinets, a husband sleeping soundly in the next room over and a baby in his arms? At that though, Atsushi peeked at Hiroki from the corner of his eye, happy to see he was still feeding happily.

Shutting his eyes, Atsushi hugged Hiroki closer, enjoying the warmth and weight in his arms. When he and Dazai were considering adopting, he feared what a child might accidentally bring back for him. What would he do if he couldn’t give enough love to a child because he had no experience in giving it? What if it hurt too much to give a child something he selfishly wished he could’ve had for himself? Dazai reassured him those wouldn’t be issues, yet he fretted until they brought their baby home. It was then he realized the truth; watching Dazai fawn over their baby in the back seat while Kunikida drove them home, seeing his eyes overflow with a joy so ardent he worried both of them would burst (because he surely felt it too, with how persistently tears were threatening to spill), he realized he was falling in love all over again. This time, however, instead of plunging headfirst into a tumultuous sea of self-hatred and suicide attempts, knotted threads begging to be untangled so they could finish the stunning tapestry Dazai was making himself to be, Atsushi was instead building a dock and a boat, plank by plank. He was setting a foundation for a grand adventure, one he would do his best to ensure was mostly sunny and bright, and it was that different secure kind of love that almost sent him to tears again.

Atsushi didn’t know how he managed to build such an amazing family from the nothing the world gave him, but if he could do all that, he hoped he could help this little one do the same. At least he’d have more to start off with, for sure.

A tiny fist bumped his own hand, startling him out of his thoughts as Hiroki finished the last of his bottle. Gently placing the bottle on the table, Atsushi put Hiroki over his shoulder and patted his back before gently running his fingers down Hiroki’s back when he was done. For another moment he sat there, bathed in the dawn sunlight and holding his son in his arms, wondering if he really had a lifetime of mornings like these to look forward to. For the first time, when he tried to per into that future, he felt no fear. In fact, the future he pictured was almost too bright to fully admire, so he pushed it out of his mind and placed a gentle kiss to Hiroki’s forehead.

Once Hiroki was tucked back in, content now that his stomach was full, Atsushi trudged back to his bed and barely stopped himself from collapsing on it and waking Dazai. It seemed that effort was for naught, though, when he felt two arms wrap around him and pull him closer as he adjusted the blankets.

“Thank you,” Dazai mumbled sleepily, burrowing his face in Atsushi’s neck. His voice was hoarse from limited use and drawn out as he struggled to avoid yawning, and the small strokes of Atsushi’s fingers through his hair did nothing to negate that.

“No problem,” Atsushi responded, wrapping Dazai in his own hold. For a moment the two of them stayed there, listening to the other’s steady breaths and enjoying the rare quiet in their household. Dazai was never one to keep quiet for long, though, so he quickly piped up.

“Hey, Atsushi...” he murmured softly, as if he was still unsure if he wanted to ask his question. Atsushi hummed in response, a clear indicator that he was tired, yes, but still listening.

Dazai let the silence linger for long enough that Atsushi wondered if he had fallen asleep before finally asking, “Do you think we’ll get to stay like this?”

Atsushi’s breath caught in his throat. He spent a good chunk of his time reflecting on his life, sometimes he forgot Dazai did it too. Even now, after years of marriage and even longer knowing each other, Atsushi was still astonished by how similar their fears could be.

Smiling, Atsushi answered, “I think we’ll have our ups and downs. We might not stay exactly like this, but...I’ll work every day to make sure we stay happy.”

Dazai was silent for a moment, yet his grip tightened on Atsushi. Atsushi could hear how frantically Dazai’s heart was beating- a sound he still flushed at when he realized how it beat for him- before remembering how strong Atsushi had helped Dazai become and how strong he was now for their son.

The two of them had done a fine job building their dock together.

“Me too,” Dazai said finally, voice soft in the way it got when his heart felt too full for him to think straight. With a gentle kiss to his head as his reward, he continued. “I’ll do my best to keep you both safe and happy. That’s what I want to do.”

The sun had barely had the chance to cast longer streams of light on the floorboards before Atsushi and Dazai drifted off to sleep again. A gentle breeze blew them off to dream, sending them on their way. When the woke, they’d get ready for the real voyage, building and plotting and everything in between. Neither of them were expert sailors, as was clear to any outside eye. But they were determined to keep their sailing as smooth as possible, and in that moment of soft light and softer smiles, it was more than just a hopeless ideal.

#my stuff #my stuff dazatsu #dazatsu #dazushi #dazai osamu #nakajima atsushi #dazai #atsushi #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #oc #fankid #hiroki tag #my stugg bsd

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whiskeyworen · 4 years

Text

Stormy Thoughts

The storm was raging outside. Two days ago, they had seen the rising, roiling clouds coming off the Sea of Sorrow, and decided to break port. The Forsaken Aspect's cloak and Illusion generators were powerful... but they would not be able to hide her physical shape against the rain. It wouldn't do for some dockworker to look out over the bay and see a Pact airship that somehow was shielded from the rain by something much bigger-- and cloaked -- to boot.

So rather than avoiding it, a course was set for the middle of nowhere out on the sea. There, the ship dropped its anchors; heavy Asuran geomagnetic anchors tethered to the ship by self-repairing Sylvari-tech vine chains. It wasn't a new design, but it was something being used in a novel fashion; the vines were a modification of the barrier vines the Pact used back in Fort Trinity, only on a far larger scale. Even if the anchors didn't physically hit bottom, their field projectors latched onto the ores in the sea bottom with their powerful magnets, becoming almost immobile in the water.

Thus docked, the crew decided to wait out the storm. It was almost a... vacation of sorts. They couldn't even jump the ship through a Mist portal because of the distortion the hurricane was creating not just in the atmosphere, but in the local magical fields.

It was somewhere on the second night, when things started to happen.

***

Moryggan started awake for the fifth time, shooting up in bed in terror, before groaning in frustration. Outside the lightning flashed yet again, and the rumble rolled through the ship. She glared at the large picture window that ran the length of her quarters; it was her fault really, for choosing THIS particular room as hers. She'd wanted to see the sea and sky passing by, and the big window seemed perfect for that.

The problem was, it put her on the edge of the ship on the upper decks somewhere below the bridge; though the hull was thick around there, it wasn't soundproof. So the lightning flashed angrily, and the thunder rolled menacingly, and once again, she was denied sleep.

"Pale Tree damn it." She muttered, tossing the covers off in irritation. Moryggan climbed out of bed, grumpily sliding a pair of deck shoes on and a housecoat over her night slip. "...never going to get any sleep in this room."

As if to taunt her, the lightning arced outside, striking the ship's energy barrier, dispersing with a noisy bang and an electric squeal from the shield. Moryggan's eyes narrowed and she ground her teeth, a sound of frustration hissing from her as she headed for the door. She'd have to find sleep elsewhere.

***

On the other side of the ship, in quarters that mirrored Moryggan's, the storm was having a negative effect on someone else as well. Though for a significantly different reason.

Tenna whimpered quietly in her sleep. The lightning didn't bother her...but the thunder did. And the rain. She'd fallen asleep alright earlier in the night, but as the storm worsened, the sound of the rain and the thunder woke ugly memories that then infiltrated her dreams.

The roar of the Jungle Dragon. The gunshot. The explosions rocking the fleet.

The hot dampness she felt when she woke, that burning inside and the fetid air of the gullet of the Stonehead.

"Submit and die!" Mordremoth's stone-grating voice grumbled out of the darkness, carried on the voice of thunder from the real world. "You will never escape me!"

She could see the great prow of an airship coming down at her as she fell, the gleam of the razor-sharp metal as it plunged towards her chest...

Tenna woke with a start as another thundercrack rolled over the hull, clutching her kingfisher griffon plush tightly. Her eyes darted around, thinking that somehow the horrors of her dream had followed her into waking, before she let out a pent up breath explosively.

"....I hate these dreams." She muttered, and flopped out of bed, pulling the plushie with her as she wobbled towards the door. Her oversized Disintegrating Gourds T-shirt hung almost to her ankles; she'd deliberately bought a human-sized version specifically for the size, and because the image printed on it was bigger.

Not that any of that mattered to her as she sleepily scratched at it as she trudged out into the hall. There was only one thing on her mind; the one place she'd be able to get some rest.

***

Cyrus lay awake, staring up at the skylight. Compared to other cabins on the same deck, he actually had the most window space of them all. He just didn't like having the shutters open at all times. So instead of the long, curved wall of portholes that would have been the side of his cabin, he had the sliding armor shutters closed, leaving only a relatively small skylight near the top exposed.

His cabin actually extended out onto the forward, upper hull slightly, so instead of having a vertical wall and porthole, his was a curved, half-egg shaped window lattice. On good days, with the shutters up, he could almost look up and see the bubble of the bridge's viewport from his room.

For now though, with the storm raging outside and the ship's shields up, it was just easier to have the shutters closed. He could still hear the rain pummelling the shutters and the roof, and see a little bit of the storm through the skylight, so that was nice. But he didn't want to be blinded by lightning flashes either, or woken by the squeal of the shield as it took electrical hits.

Cyrus just couldn't seem to drift off though. Not for any particular reason, but sometimes he just...couldn't relax enough to sleep. He'd always had an issue with internalized tension, and sometimes it caused him insomnia.

Just looked to be one of those nights.

"....tomorrow is going to suck if I can't get any sleep." He muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He sighed. "Maybe I should see if there's a sedative in the infirmary I can take."

But that would require getting out of bed. He was comfy, as it was. Getting up would mean pulling on some pants, maybe boots, and heading below decks. So much trouble just to sleep.

He was about to lever himself out of bed when there was a knock on his door. Who could it be at this hour? Cyrus took a moment to check if he was decent (he was), before calling out. "Who is it?" "Moryggan." Came the reply.

Moryggan was up too? "Come on in. Don't worry, I'm decent." She opened the door and stepped in, closing it behind her. To his surprise, she seemed kinda reluctant, but it might be the fact she was just wearing a simple nightgown and robe.

In his quarters.

While he was in his own night clothes.

Some part of him entertained the idea that maybe, just maybe, that was a hint of a little green blushing glow on her face that she was trying to surpress.

"Sorry for bothering you so late, Cyrus. I was... having trouble sleeping."

He nodded, sitting up completely. "That's alright... I was kind of awake anyway. Was there something you wanted?"

She nodded, approaching the bed. Sitting on the edge she awkwardly rubbed her arm with a hand, before reaching up to gingerly touch the scar on her forehead, her eyes going distant for a moment. Before he could ask, she shook herself back to reality, and looked at him.

"I was wondering... hoping you'd let me rest here for the night." She glanced up at the skylight, wincing as lightning flashed, but thankful the thunder was muted by plate armor thicker than that around her own cabin. The flash too, had been dimmer because of the small size of the window. "...The storm. It's, uh... it's brought up a lot of bad memories, and I kind of don't want to be alone."

Cyrus blinked dumbly for a moment, and then shimmied aside, offering her more of the bed. "Uh, yeah. Sure. If that's what you want. Do you want a separate blanket or anything?"

Moryggan shook her head and shed the robe, turning and flopping onto her side, facing away from him. "No...thank you."

After a moment, she shifted and pulled some of the blanket over herself. Cyrus just lay back down, and rolled onto his side -- facing away from her of course. It felt awkward to him; the idea of laying on his back next to his teammate and friend like this. At least facing away was acceptable. It wasn't like they hadn't shared close quarters before; in their travels they'd had to share tents and inn rooms before.

It was just the fact that normally he'd be wearing more than he was. Even those stays at the inns, he usually had a long-sleeved tunic on, along with loose leggings. The concept of accidental contact, let alone accidental skin-contact just wasn't a thing when he dressed like that for bed. Thinking about it, he was pretty sure that Moryggan too, had worn more to bed. He just couldn't for the life of him remember what.

Moryggan on the other hand -- while Cyrus' mind went down a rabbit hole -- stared out across the room to where his desk was installed along the wall. She found her gaze caught by the rack of small paint bottles, and the badly stained ceramic cup resting near the lamp. Did he have a hobby? She wondered, frowning a bit and looking around without moving. She'd never thought of it before, but in the last few years travelling with him, she'd never paid attention to things like that. Did he have a hobby? The few times they stopped by his place in Divinity's Reach, there'd been times he'd retreated to his room for hours while she wandered the city.

Moryggan never asked what he'd done in there; just assumed he was plotting out more of his Plan. The one that led to the revival of the Home Base, and the creation of the Forsaken Aspect. Even after the ship launched, there'd be days when he'd disappear to his quarters for hours, sometimes days, without talking to anyone except the Aspect.

"Cyrus?" She asked quietly.

"Mm?"

"Do you..." Moryggan paused, unsure how to proceed. It was the middle of the night. Maybe it wasn't the best time to probe. "Ah, nevermind..."

"....Okay."

An awkward silence filled the room as they both tried to fall asleep. Every time the lightning flashed above, though, Moryggan flinched a bit, a sensation that Cyrus could feel through the bed every time she did it.

"Mory?" He eventually asked, not rolling over. Instead he stared at the far wall, where the armor plate shutters covered his grand window. He felt her grow still, where she had been fidgetting slightly inbetween flinches.

"Yes?"

"...Are you okay over there? It kind of feels like you're on edge."

"Yes... I mean no. I'm not. Okay, I mean." She replied, mixing up her response by accident. She sighed. "It's the storm. Lightning makes me...edgy, I suppose you could call it."

"Is it the sight, or the sound?" Cyrus asked carefully. He didn't like pushing into people's personal space. Not unless he had to.

"Sight. I don't really have an issue with thunder. But the lightning flashes..." She flinched as another bolt lit up the skylight above. A hiss of frustration left her and she drew the blankets up closer to her head. "...I don't like the flash. For reasons."

Cyrus thought for a moment, before sitting up and reaching over to a shelf built into the wall near the bed on his side. From inside, he pulled a length of dark cloth, carefully folded. Item retrieved, he lay back down, but he reached back to dangle the cloth before her, on her side. "... If you want you can try this. I'm a bit of an insomniac, and can be light-sensitive sometimes, so I bought a few blindfolds to use for sleep."

Moryggan blinked at the length of material as it slid from his fingers, exposing the entire length of it. It was only a few inches across, but it was more than two feet long; plenty of material to make an adequate blindfold. She carefully took it from his fingers, and let hers play over the material; to her surprise, it was high-quality silk. Holding it against her eyes, she couldn't see even a bit of light come through; the weave was quite intricate, and the silk itself was multiple layers thick. It was thick, but it was also unbelievably light and soft.

"Thank you." She said softly, considering it, before a thought came to her and a smile quirked her face. "...Never knew you were into that, Cyrus. Sometimes you learn the most interesting things about people."

His response was an exasperated sigh, and she giggled a bit, before sitting up and tying the blindfold on and laying back down.

She waited to see if it'd work, only to smile again when the sound of thunder reached her ears...but the flash had not. "It works. Thank you."

"Not a problem. Just let me know if you need anything else." He sighed tiredly, and closed his eyes, once again trying to sleep.

It wasn't long at all before he felt her shift in the bed again. To his surprise, she shifted backward until her back touched his. It was only the lightest of touches, but he couldn't hold back from moving. It was really more like a spasm, honestly; he hadn't expected skin contact and it surprised the hell out of him. "Uh?..."

"If it's okay..." He heard her say slowly. "Could I ask you to... rub my back, until I fall asleep?"

"Rub. Your back?" Cyrus repeated quietly. "Would that... would that actually help?"

Without looking, he could hear her head shift on the pillow, apparently nodding. "I've always thought about it as reassuring. But I never had anyone who'd do it for me, so..." "Well, if it'll help." He turned over in place, reaching out with one hand. Cyrus paused for a moment, staring at her bare back and neck. He knew on a strictly medical, clinical level that sylvari were essentially plants, but ones that fluoresced in the dark. It was common knowledge, as well as the fact that their skin patterning tended to reflect those of plants as well. It just never occured to him directly, because he'd never been in this situation before. He only stared for a few seconds, but it was enough to set his mind rolling with thought. Moryggan's skin was still the familiar magenta hue, but now he could see that, at least across her back, she had darker, spot-like patterns of deep green, like that of her hair. Or the fact that the sylvari bioluminscence (in her case a gentle mint green) didn't illuminate those spots, instead following pathways both on the surface of her skin, and beneath. Dang. He thought, as he watched her glow pulse slowly in the darkness. That's actually really pretty. Kinda reminds me of some pitcher plants, or something. Or some flowers. His fingers finally touched her back, between her shoulder blades, and to his surprise she shivered a bit, and her glow sped up for a moment. "Ah, sorry. Did I touch the wrong spot?"

"No." Moryggan replied, and shook her head. "No, you just caught me a little off guard, even though I was trying to be prepared for it. Your fingers are a little cool."

"Oh." Cyrus chuckled and then rubbed his fingers, getting them warm, before putting them back on her spine and gently brushing from between her shoulder blades up to the base of her neck. ".... Is that good?"

Moryggan's only response was a quiet, non-verbal mumble of assent, almost a sigh. That made him smirk, as he continued the stroking.

"....back of the neck too..." She eventually murmured, clearly starting to drowse. " 'S'feels nice..." "Glad you're enjoying it." He told her softly.

Over the next few minutes, he continued stroking her back, softly running his fingers up and down, her spine, her neck. At her nonverbal suggestion, he also added a bit of a shoulder rub to what he was doing, eliciting a few more pleasant sighs and murmurs from her. She's almost asleep... He thought, smiling a bit. Maybe when she does I can roll over and get some sleep mys-

That's when the door to his quarters banged open loudly, startling them both. Cyrus snapped up in bed, one hand already reaching for the axe he kept by the bedside in its mount, while Moryggan scrambled to pull the blindfold off, spectral butterflies already floating around her as she prepared to teleport away.

The room was dark, and the doorway was even darker, but it was clear that a small figure was standing in it, foot outstretched in a flat kick. Sleepy, semi-luminscent orange-gold eyes blinked tiredly in the darkness of the doorframe, before a lightning flash cast just enough illumination to reveal the bedraggled asura.

"...Tenna?!" Cyrus was confused. "What the hell?"

Tenna stumbled into the room, scratching at her shirt and blinking dully. She looked around a bit, eyes casting over Moryggan but only lingering for a second or two, before coming back to him.

"....Dreams." She muttered, and shuffled her way to the bed, on the side opposite of where the sylvari lay. The plushie kingfisher griffon in her hand was hooked onto the blanket before she pulled herself onto the bed beside an increasingly confused Cyrus and an alarmed Mory. "Can't sleep...Bad Dreams."

Cyrus's confusion was swept away in an instant, and he scooted away from the edge, giving her room. Immediately he understood, and felt a flash of pity for the little Asura, who proceeded to dig herself under the blankets and wrap both arms around his forearm, burying her face in his upper arm. "Oh.... Right. The dreams."

"Cyrus?" There was a note of irritation in Moryggan's voice, though she tried to hide it. Alarm, confusion, and possibly jealousy warred in her expression as she looked between him and the small being clinging to his arm. "Care to explain this?"

He sighed as he laid back down, propping a pillow under his head as he got comfortable, and gestured for her to do the same. When she'd settled in, turned so she was facing him, that expression still on her face, he shrugged. "Kind of the same story as you...but from a different angle."

"Oh?"

Cyrus reached over to give Tenna's hair a stroke while she continued to bury her face in his arm. "She gets bad dreams. Has had them ever since our days in the Priory. I only found out about them when we ended up on a research mission together and she approached me about it."

Moryggan's expression softened a little. Quietly she asked "Dreams?..."

He nodded, looking up at the skylight as he thought back to the first day an exhausted Tenna finally told him about her problems. "She gets Night Terrors. I won't speak for her about them, but they're for pretty legitimate reasons." His eyes clouded a little as he thought. "Given what the world's gone through in the last few years, it's surprising we don't all suffer from Night Terrors and PTSD." That got a chuckle from Moryggan, where she was resting her cheek on his shoulder. "Well, from the sounds of it, everyone in here right now is suffering from some kind of night ailment."

"Night Terrors, astrapophobia, PTSD, insomnia..." Tenna recited tiredly, eyes closed. "...All'v'us need ther'py."

"So we all end up clinging to each other like wreckage in a storm." Moryggan giggled a bit, and then eyed the plushie Tenna had brought in. "...much like you cling to that cute little toy. It's very cute."

One of Tenna's eyes opened, and she squinted at the sylvari across the bed. "... You makin' fun of me?"

"Not at all! It's adorable." Moryggan's stage smile was clear. "For a moment I forgot you were an adult!"

"...You realize I'm older than you, right?" Tenna riposted. "As the eight-year-old in the room, by all rights you should be the one with the stuffed toy. Right?...Miss 'Single-Digit-Year-Old'?"

Cyrus winced, not just at the friction between the two, but because both of them were now digging their nails into his arms unconsciously. "Alright, enough of that...Come on you two; just cool down and try and get some sleep."

"Right..."

"Sorry..."

There was some shuffling in the dark as everyone got comfortable. The blindfold went back on Moryggan's face, Cyrus propped up more pillow for himself, and Tenna proceeded to make herself more of an attachment to his arm by tightening her grip.

Because of the change of position, he realized he couldn't stroke Mory's back anymore. At least, that's what he thought until she worked her way under his arm to snuggle against him.

"....Sorry, but I still want that back rub." She admitted, her cheeks luminescing in the dark a little. "This is the only way I could think of that'd free your arm up."

"Uh, that's okay." Cyrus replied, wrong-footed. He hadn't expected her to get in that close at all. I can smell her fragrance. He thought. She smells like...jasmine flowers. "I don't mind."

She smiled, and rest her head against his shoulder while he resumed stroking her back.

"I bet you don't." Came a teasing response from Tenna. "Y'got two ladies all snuggled up to ya. You're as happy as a skritt in a treasure trove."

Cyrus had no answer for that at all, and could only stammer a bit, which made both women laugh quietly.

They were all left to their own thoughts after that.

Moryggan still puzzled over what Cyrus might do for a hobby...or what kind of nightmares Tenna actually had. Come to think of it, just how many times over the last few years had Tenna visited him like this? How often has she been here? She wondered, a tinge of jealousy working its way into her thoughts. For some reason, the thought of those two sharing a bed -- even if it was for clinical, theraputic reasons, and entirely non-romantic -- aggravated her.

What hold did Tenna hold over him, that he would unquestioningly let her in like that? She barely said two words, and he moved over to make room for her!

And why was it making her jealous? It's not like she and Cyrus had any kind of relationship. Well... except for that one time, right after the end of Kralkatorrik... and before that, the time when Mordremoth had tried to use her as a puppet... Come to think of it, do we have any kind of relationship? Her thoughts froze as she tried to puzzle out her feelings.

On the other side of the bed, Tenna just groused internally. She'd all but made herself a permanent attachement to Cyrus, feeling the warmth of his arm, her face buried into it as she tried to drift off. She could even smell him; if anything, thanks to her 'adjustment', her sense of smell was pretty darned powerful these days. It felt like bragging, but she privately bet herself she could identify the soap he'd used, and how long it'd been since his last meal or shower.

Still. Sleep. She was so tired, but it was just not coming.

Stupid nightmares. Stupid Dragon. Stupid anxiety. Stupid sylvari already being here. She grumbled harshly, before sighing. No. Not stupid sylvari. Got no right to say that. Mory is a good sylvari. Shouldn't be mad she's here. And Cyrus is nice and warm...

Stop thinking. Just blank the mind and go to sleep. That's what she needed to do.

Stuck right in the middle, Cyrus really was not going to be able to fall asleep. On the one hand, it felt really nice to have them snuggled up against him like this. Tenna hadn't been far off in her statement -- He WAS happy, in a way. But... he was so very, very anxious. He hadn't remotely prepared for a situation like this, or planned for it, because it... it simply wasn't something that ever happened! How do you prepare for two of your companions, both women, both immensely powerful and deadly, cuddling up to you like you're a teddy bear?!

At the same time he was thinking that, his mind was also whirling with every little thing it could see, smell, feel -- all of it. He was keenly aware of Moryggan against him, of the feel of her skin under his still-stroking hand. Cyrus was very much aware of her luminescence, and how it was waxing and waning. The scent of jasmine flowers -- her scent -- was all he could smell.

On the other side, he was also aware of just how much of his arm Tenna was immobilizing, where his hand and fingers were, and for the Gods' sake, not to even attempt to move any of it at all. From wrist to shoulder on that side, he was effectively pinned down by a warm, grumbly asuran engineer.

Yep. He was not going to be able to sleep tonight. Could tonight get any more absurd? He wondered bleakly.

There was a double-knock on his door frame, right before Verula leaned into view. She wasn't looking into the room as she entered; instead consulting a dataslate as she wedged herself into the door frame.

"Hey Cyrus, I saw your door open, so I figured you got insomnia again. I was wondering if I could talk to you about..." That was when she looked into the room, and blinked in surprise. "...about...?....Uh?"

Of course. Cyrus muttered in his own head, even as Tenna grumbled and buried her head more into his shoulder. Moryggan just raised the blindfold with one hand, before sighing and pulling it back down, resuming her sleep spot.

"Hey Verula." He said tiredly.

"Uh. Yeah. Hey." The charr put the slate away, and leaned in looking closer at the scene. There was a supremely perplexed look on her face. "Am... I interrupting something here? Exactly what's going on?"

Cyrus just shook his head and smiled weakly. "Tonight seems to be a bad night for everyone. And for some reason... we're all gravitating here, I suppose."

"....Seriously?"

He nodded. "I did have insomnia."

Moryggan raised her hand loosely, before letting it drop back to the bed. "Lightning wasn't letting me sleep in my own quarters."

"Bad DREAMS." Tenna offered tersely, not even raising her head. "Tryin'a sleep skritt-dammit!"

Cyrus just shrugged a little. "...So yeah. It kinda turned into a therapy-session-slash-sleepover somehow."

Verula just looked at all of them, staring at them oddly, before stepping backward, slowly, out of the doorframe. "Right.... okay. Tell you what... I'll be right back."

They listened to her tromp off in her heavy plate, before it faded from earshot. A few minutes later, they could hear her coming back, but at a far faster rate. And the sound of heavy armor was missing entirely. "Oh no. What is she...?" Cyrus began, before the charr dam burst into the room, arms filled with extra blankets and pillows. She peeked over the top of the pile, grinning. "You should have invited me! I haven't been to a sleepover since I was a cub in the fahrar!"

"Verula?!"

But it was too late. While chattering about her time at the fahrar and how one of her best memories was a group-sleep during basic training, where the cubs all cuddled together for warmth, she laid out some oversized pillows on either side of the head of the bed. On the side Moryggan was on, she grabbed Cyrus' desk chair and used it to prop some of the pillows up, while on Tenna's side, she just left them piled on the floor until they reached the height of the mattress.

"Okay! Now, everyone sit up!" Verula waved her clawed hands at them. "Come on! Make some room! Scoot forward if you have to! You can lay back down in a moment!"

It was only when they did so that they realized she no longer had her armour on; Verula had a simple black-grey tunic on, exposing her rarely seen pale fur. She clambered onto the bed behind their heads, laying down with her head on the chair-supported pillows. With one hand she pulled one of the blankets she brought over her, while with the other she propped up their pillows against her body. "There we go! You can all lay back now!" She grinned, stretching out.

"O-okay..." They all laid back carefully, gingerly resting their heads on their pillows. To be truthful, it was only Cyrus that had the pillows; Moryggan was using his shoulder as her pillow, and Tenna his other arm. "Are you sure you're okay with this, Verula?"

"Absolutely." She nodded sharply, closing her eyes. "Nothing builds camaraderie like being close together. I would have suggested it a long time ago, but I honestly didn't know how you all would react."

"Well, charr aren't usually this...close to people." Moryggan pointed out, fidgetting to get comfortable. "I mean, I can understand the fahrar, but afterwards, all of you seem to be rather solo."

"Yeah... We are." Verula sounded wistful. "I'll admit that it's something that never stopped bugging me in the Legions. I looked around at all the other races -- all of you -- and saw all these weird, close-knit units. Living together, sleeping together, fraternizing... the whole thing." She shrugged a bit, putting her hands behind her head and staring at the ceiling. "I always wanted to find out what it was like, but being charr... opportunity just wasn't there."

She chuckled, and curled her tail around to tickle Tenna's ear. "At least, not until now I suppose."

Moryggan craned her neck back to 'look' at Verula, despite the blindfold. "I never expected something like that from you, Verula...no offense."

"None taken."

"To think that the big, tough, resolute, serious charr in our midst has a soft side is... Well, it's surprising, but in a pleasant way."

The charr reached down to give her a matronly pat on the head... before reaching over to ruffle Cyrus's hair a bit more roughly. "I'm glad to hear that. But keep it to yourselves, alright? There's reasons I never ever mentioned it among my own kind."

"Duly noted." Cyrus grumbled, unable to reach up and fix his hair. He sighed in resignation. "It's not hard to see why you'd keep that a secret. Anyone that knows anything about Legion charr would get it."

"That said, the next time you all decide to be all collective like this..." Verula yawned and smirked as Tenna grabbed at her tail, pinning it along with Cyrus's arm in her vice-like embrace. "...We'll have to arrange it for in my quarters. No offense, Cy, but your bed is way too small. And since we have no Norn in crew, mine is the biggest bed by far."

"Agreed!" Moryggan nodded primly, snuggling in a bit closer and adjusting the blankets.

"'Nuff talk!" Tenna hissed. She opened one golden eye to glare at the others. "'Nuff talk, more sleepy. Skritting gabby-gums..."

The others chuckled, but the talking finally began to cease.

As they slowly dropped off to sleep, one by one, Cyrus lay there, staring at the skylight, listening to the thunder. The storm was already passing; the thunder was farther off now. In a few hours, it'd be over the mainland.

He listened to the soft sigh of the sylvari next to him. To the tight-lipped murmurs of the asura, that he could feel her lips moving where she pressed her face against his arm. He could feel the rise and fall of Verula's breathing somewhere behind his head, though his pillow was basically on her stomach.

This still feels like some kind of silly joke. He told himself as he started to drift off. A joke of the Gods on me. What are the chances everyone just happened to be here tonight? That we're all okay with this situation?

A small smile made its way to his lips, as he finally felt sleep come upon him. He could live with that, he supposed. It wasn't bad at all. What dreams would this create, though?

#gw2 fanfiction #silly #All In One Bed trope #My characters #Cyrus Sigismund #Moryggan Deraleth #Tenna Danae #Verula Faithbreaker #Forsaken Aspect #Storm #Shelter from the storm #misery loves company #tyriaslibrary #I now realize I need another male or two in this crew #Asura #Charr #Human #Sylvari

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lastbluetardis · 4 years

Text

Family of Six (13/14)

After James and Rose bring their newborn twins home, they work to find a balance between all four of their children, and each other. Ten x Rose AU, Soulmates AU.

This chapter: Teen, 6600 words

WARNING: trigger for body image negativity

Ages of the Tyler-McCrimmons at the start of the chapter: James: 39, Rose: 34, Ainsley: 9, Sianin: 6, Twins: 4.5 months

If you like reading my stories, consider leaving me a tip? Or leave a reply on this post to tell me what you thought? And as always, reblogs are very much appreciated so more people can see this.

Next (final!) update: November 21st

AO3 | TSP | FF | Perfectly Matched Series

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14

Thankfully, when James went to work the Monday after his disastrous evening out with his coworkers, it wasn’t awkward or confrontational. Rodney stopped by his office to apologize, claiming that the divorce was giving him a shorter temper than usual, but also to alert James to the fact that his behavior was rude and hurtful. James didn’t particularly think he had been out of line, but he apologized nevertheless and offered his condolences and well-wishes for Rodney as he rebounded from his divorce.

No matter, James more or less kept his head down at the university. He did his job and helped his students, but looked forward to going home to his family at the end of the day. He also enjoyed going on vacations with his family throughout the summer. He and Rose regularly took the girls out for weekend adventures. They stayed fairly close to home, as travelling with the twins was tricky, but they planned a longer trip to the beach, enlisting Jackie and Robert’s help with child management.

Ainsley and Sianin were thrilled to have their grandparents on vacation with them and often spent a majority of their time playing with them. Since Jackie and Robert looked after Ainsley and Sianin, James and Rose only had to worry about keeping the twins happy.

They’d booked two rooms at a hotel not too far from the beach. Jackie and Robert shared one room while James and Rose bunked with all of their kids in the other room.

For it being the height of summer, they lucked out with the weather. It was hot and sunny, but the cool ocean breeze kept it manageable. James adored playing with his children in the sea. The twins thoroughly reveled in the new experience, shrieking and splashing their fat little legs whenever James and Rose dipped them into the water.

James also appreciated doing absolutely nothing. He loved being able to lay down beside Rose on the shore and simply soak up the sun, content to let Robert and Jackie entertain his eldest children while the babies napped.

“You’re going to have the weirdest tan line,” Rose remarked, jutting her chin towards the baby lying atop him.

“At least I’m going to get tan,” he said, eyeing her t-shirt and shorts.

“My legs are tanning,” she said, smoothing her hands up and down them for emphasis.

“Come on, why don’t you take your shirt off?”

Rose shrugged. “I haven’t exactly worked on my figure since the twins were born.”

James furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about? You look great.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. “Thanks. But you’re a bit biased. I don’t think the rest of the beach wants to see my fat tummy and stretch marks.”

“Fuck everyone else,” he said. “Your body has grown four perfect children. You are beautiful, Rose.”

“My body is amazing and I’m so proud of myself for carrying and giving birth to four humans. And I would do it all again to have our girls. But that doesn’t mean I like what it looks like.”

James frowned. “But… you’re beautiful.”

Rose laughed. “I know you think that. And I love you for it. But I’m having a self-conscious day, so please leave me be about it, yeah?”

He wanted to argue. It killed him that she didn’t like what she looked like. But he also didn’t want to coerce her into something she didn’t want to do. However, dropping the subject made him feel like he was agreeing with her assessment of her body. Sure, she was still carrying around a bit of baby weight, and she had stretch marks around her stomach, thighs, and breasts, but he would never tire of seeing her body, blemishes and all.

“I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the universe,” he said.

“I know. Thanks, love.”

He settled back into his seat. A few minutes later, however, Sianin ran up to him and begged him to play in the water with her.

“Go ahead,” Rose said, holding out an arm for Hannah. “Besides, I need to feed these two.”

She stripped off her shirt and freed a breast from her bikini top. James deposited Hannah into the crook of her arm and stayed long enough to help her get settled to nurse.

“I’m going to do one at a time,” Rose told him as he attempted to help her situate the twins. “It’s easier to stay covered in public if I’m just worrying about one tit.”

James snorted. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yep, go have fun,” she said, waving her hand at him.

She smiled to herself as she watched her husband and children frolicking in the sea. She watched James crouch low into the water until Sianin clambered up his torso to stand on his shoulders. She wobbled precariously for a moment when he stood to his full height, but then she regained her balance, bent down, and sprang off of her father and into the water.

Rose was surprised when James let Ainsley do the same thing. Though she was still small for her age, it was getting harder and harder to lift Ainsley up. Rose supposed the buoyancy of the water helped, but when James stood up, he alone supported Ainsley’s weight.

Gracefully, Ainsley leaped off of James and splashed into the water.

Again and again, her children used their father as a diving board to plunge into the water. Rose wished she could record the moment forever of everyone playing lightheartedly in the ocean.

Her attention was brought back to the baby at her breast when the subtle tugging sensation stopped. Hannah had unlatched and was nuzzling her face into the side of Rose’s breast, content to drift back to sleep.

“Let’s get a burp out of you,” Rose cooed, bringing her daughter to her shoulder.

She was aware of a few quickly-averted eyes as her breast was exposed to the beach, but Rose ignored the slight burning of her cheeks and instead positioned Hannah over her breast to rub and pat her back. She was rewarded a few seconds later with a couple of deep burps and a relieved sigh.

“Bet you feel loads better. Your belly is nice and full, and you’re soaking up the sunshine. Where better to nap, eh?”

Before setting her baby back onto the towel by her side, Rose slathered on a bit more sunscreen. The twins’ skin was as fair as their newly-grown hair—which looked like it might come in red, though James was convinced it would be blonde—and as such, she wanted to keep as much of the sun’s rays off of her babies’ delicate skin as she could.

Hannah smiled sleepily at her mother as Rose rubbed sunscreen into her chubby arms and legs, giving her an impromptu massage as she went. Rose pressed a kiss to Hannah’s brow, then placed her on her tummy on the blanket. She next grabbed Maddie, who seemed more interested in playing than eating. Maddie beamed again and again at her mother, squealing with delight as Rose tickled her belly and bounced her in her lap and pretended to eat her fingers and toes.

“It’s lunch time, sweetheart,” Rose finally said. “I know you must be hungry. Mummy’s got your food all ready to go.”

She exposed her other breast for her daughter.

“Don’t you have a cover?”

Rose glanced up and saw her mother standing beside her.

“Nah, she’ll latch on in a minute,” Rose said, then she returned her attention to trying to get Maddie to nurse. Maddie grinned at Rose’s breast and reached out to sink her little fingers into it. Rose winced; the baby needed her nails trimmed. “Yes, thank you for that. But your mouth is on your face, not your hands.”

Maddie pinched and pulled at Rose’s breast, causing a drop of milk to well up. Maddie was delighted to see it, and she gurgled and grinned.

“I love that you’re so amused right now,” Rose told her child, “but I really need you to cooperate with me, sweetheart.”

She took the back of Maddie’s head in her hand and guided her face forward. Maddie writhed and squawked, but after a few seconds, she stopped struggling and decided she was hungry after all. She opened her mouth and leaned forward as Rose guided her nipple into the baby’s searching mouth.

“There we go,” Rose murmured as she felt the letdown of milk and Maddie began nursing in earnest. “See, I told you you were hungry. Mummy knows best, eh? Well, most of the time anyway.”

She caressed her fingers across Maddie’s scalp, then turned her attention to the shadow still looming above her.

“Are you gonna sit?” Rose asked, gesturing to the chair James had recently vacated.

“I was waiting ‘til you got her settled,” Jackie said, eyeing Maddie with what looked like disapproval. “You weren’t in any rush to get her to latch and I didn’t think you wanted the whole beach seeing you with your tits out.”

Rose rolled her eyes and disregarded the comment. Instead, she lounged back in her chair, tilting her face up towards the sun. Her skin radiated heat, and she had to admit it felt nice to feel the sun on her arms and stomach. She exhaled and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the flabby weight of the skin of her stomach. It couldn’t be helped; besides people tended to avert their eyes upon seeing a breastfeeding mother, so people probably weren’t looking closely enough to see the red and silver stripes adorning her abdomen.

The shadow of her mother moved. A second later, she felt a towel being draped across her shoulder and stomach, concealing Maddie beneath the course, heavy sheet. Maddie startled and thrashed, clawing Rose’s chest with her nails and she squirmed and shrieked. Rose bolted upright and flung the towel off of her baby.

“What the hell…?” she snapped, glaring at her mother. “What did you do that for?”

“I thought you could use a cover,” Jackie spluttered, going wide-eyed.

“I told you I don’t have a nursing cover,” Rose spat. “I don’t use one, so neither of the twins is used to having their head covered while they feed!”

As if to prove the point, Maddie began crying in earnest, her face pinched and red. Rose turned her attention to her distraught child and brought her up for kisses and cuddles.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Rose whispered into Maddie’s ear. “I’m so sorry. But you’re okay. Mummy’s here. I’ve got you.”

“Everything all right?”

James crouched down beside Rose and stroked his fingers across Maddie’s back.

“Yes,” Jackie replied tightly.

Rose glared up at her mother. “Yes? Are you bloody kidding me? You just suffocated my child!”

James gaped, staring in confusion between her and her mother.

“I didn’t suffocate her,” Jackie said impatiently. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“It is blazing hot and you just put a towel over her face. How would you like to eat your lunch with a blanket over your head?”

James touched her thigh gently, but his voice was tight as he said, “Let’s all cool down. Jackie, why don’t we go get ice cream for Ainsley and Sianin?”

“I was trying to help,” Jackie said, not moving from her chair. She crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “I was trying to protect your modesty. People were staring.”

“Then let them stare! My babies needed feeding. I’m not flashing the entire bloody beach for the sake of showing off my goddamn tits!”

“We’re used to getting stared at in public when Rose breastfeeds,” James explained, trying to keep his tone even. The fact that he was so calm—or at least sounded calm—set Rose’s teeth on edge, and she wanted to rage at him, too. “Though most of the time, people tend to mind their own business.”

“Does it bother you that I breastfeed my children in public?” Rose demanded to her mother.

“Of course not. I breastfed you when you were a baby. But I did it discreetly.”

“Have you seen how big their heads are?” Rose gestured down to Maddie, who was nursing lazily by now, her prior distress forgotten. “Nobody can see anything. Besides, we’re on a bloody beach; everyone is half-naked.”

“I was trying to help,” Jackie snapped again. “Not only with keeping your chest covered, but I didn’t think you wanted anyone to see…”

Jackie fluttered her hand vaguely at Rose’s stomach. A hollow noise echoed in Rose’s ears and something hard clenched her gut. She was suddenly conscious of the commotion they’d caused; everyone in the vicinity was watching them out of the corner of their eye. Mortification flooded through Rose, and she knew that if she sat there a second longer, she would burst into tears of anger and frustration.

Wordlessly, she stood with Maddie in her arms and stormed away from her mother and husband. Through the ringing in her head, she heard James’s voice hissing at her mother.

As she strode along the beach, Rose was cognizant of the eyes on her. She realized how ridiculous she must look. Her bikini top was half-off and an infant was latched to her breast, not bothered that her mother was walking as she nursed. Rose was also painfully aware of how her legs and stomach and breasts jiggled as she walked.

She wanted to go home. She wanted to be in her home with James and her girls, to be somewhere that nobody could see her. Heat welled through her eyes, but she roughly brushed away her tears and tried to ignore the people she passed.

She finally found a bench to sit on, and positioned Maddie to hide as much of herself as she could.

“Hi there!” A woman about Rose’s age dropped onto the bench beside her. She was a couple months pregnant; her bikini showed off the slight swell of her stomach. Rose’s throat closed as she glanced down to her own belly, saggy and striped and hideous.

“D’you mind if I keep you company ‘til you finish?” the woman asked. “People can be arseholes about a woman nursing in public and I don’t want you getting harassed. People can go fuck themselves, in my opinion.”

“I’d like that,” Rose managed to croak, embarrassed by the tears she could hear in her voice.

But the woman didn’t seem to notice. Or if she did, she said nothing. Instead, she asked, “How old is she? What’s her name? Got any more little ones with you? Gorgeous weather for the beach, eh?”

“Maddie. Er, Madeline,” Rose amended, smoothing her fingertips through the baby’s fine hair. “Nearly five months. She’s a twin. And I’ve got two older girls as well: nine and six.”

“Twins? Oh, me too! You look absolutely amazing.”

Rose snorted, and the woman frowned.

“You do! God, I can only hope I look as good as you after having twins. Especially after popping out two other ones, no less!” The woman stroked her tight belly. “I’m having one of each, a boy and a girl. They’re our first kids, and I’m not sure if I should be scared shitless or thankful I don’t have any other reference to judge by.”

Rose cracked a small smile. “For what it’s worth, my husband and I haven’t found twins to be much harder than a single baby. Sure, it’s twice the nappies and twice the laundry and twice everything else, but honestly, it’s not too bad once you get used to it.”

The woman beamed, though it slipped when she glanced over Rose’s shoulder.

“Oi, keep walkin’ mate,” she snapped, folding her arms across her chest. “Nothing to see here.”

Rose turned her head. Her bones went weak with relief when she spotted James stalking towards them. The harsh expression on his face relaxed into bewilderment as he glanced between the stranger and Rose.

“He’s my husband,” Rose said.

The woman looked at him warily for a minute, then turned her attention to Rose. She lowered her voice until nobody else could hear her. “He looks cross… Do you need me to stay?”

Rose furrowed her brow in confusion before she comprehended what the woman had thought. “Oh! No! No, no, no. No, we just got into a spat with my mum, is all. Probably chewed her out before coming to find me. No, I’m fine. Thank you, though.”

The woman smiled cheerfully then stood up. “It was nice meeting you!”

Rose barely managed, “You too,” before the woman skipped away.

James sank onto the bench beside Rose.

“I am so, so sorry,” he breathed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Rose burrowed her face into his neck. “Are you all right?”

Rose inhaled deeply, smelling sea salt and sunscreen on his skin. “Why did my mum have to make such a fuss? Why here, of all places? Why right then? And why…?” Her voice caught in her throat. “Do I look that bad?”

“No,” James whispered fiercely, hugging her tighter. “No, Rose. No. Believe me, I gave your mother an earful about that. You are the most beautiful person on this beach.” He hesitated for a fraction of a second before he admitted, “Your mum explained what she was trying to do.”

“Oh?”

James nodded. “She knows you’ve been… self-conscious. And she thought you would appreciate covering up a bit. Not that you need to, obviously. But that was all she meant by it, love. Not that I’m agreeing with her. She went about it very poorly, and I told her as much. And she understands how you took it. But… her heart was in the right place, I think.”

Rose sighed. “Why did she feel the need to cover up Maddie when I explicitly said I don’t use a cover to nurse?”

James shrugged. “She was just trying to help.”

Frustration seeped through Rose. “If I wanted help, I’d ask for it.”

“She’s a mum, Rose. How many times have we helped our kids without them asking for it?”

“Why are you defending her so much?” Rose snapped. Then she gritted her teeth and pressed the heel of her hand into her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you further. I’m only trying to explain what your mother told me,” James said, his voice unendingly gentle. “I’m not taking her side. I’ll always be on your side. You know that. But I also want to make sure you know all the facts, too.”

“I know. I just… I don’t like how I look right now,” Rose confessed. “I didn’t realize how much I don’t like how I look. I’ve been so busy with the twins… It’s been almost five months since I gave birth, and I haven’t done anything to try and get my old body back.”

“Your body is right here; there’s nothing to get back. But I know what you mean. I love you no matter how you look. I still find you incredibly attractive, no matter how toned or untoned your body is. Nothing could ever change that opinion. I love you, and I love your body. However, I want you to love your body, too. So if you want to work on strengthening it or toning it or whatever, say the word and I’ll occupy the kids so you can work towards looking like how you want to look.”

Tears leaked from her eyes. “Thank you,” she rasped. “God, I feel so daft and so… shallow. I mean, I knew what pregnancy would do to my body. And I wanted it so badly. I’m so grateful for our babies, and after what we went through trying to conceive them, it feels wrong to complain about anything regarding the twins.”

“You’re allowed to not be okay about everything,” James murmured, his heart breaking for her. “It doesn’t mean you love the twins any less. How long have you been feeling like this?”

Rose let out a watery laugh. “Honestly, today has been the worst it’s ever been. Figures, right? I’ve had moments where I’d catch a glimpse of myself and make a note to start exercising, but it was always a fleeting thought, y’know. I don’t know why it all hit me today like this. I’m sorry.”

“Why on earth are you apologizing?”

She lifted a shoulder. “This is our family vacation. I want everyone to have a nice time. You should be out playing with Ainsley and Sianin, not listening to me whine and moan.”

“You’re right, it is a family vacation,” he said. “And one of my favorite family members is not having a good time at the moment, and if my mere presence can fix that even a little bit, then I am right where I want to be.”

Rose offered him a weary but grateful smile, then rested her head on his shoulder. They sat in silence beside until Maddie finished nursing. After getting the baby burped, Rose stuffed her breast back into her bikini top.

“I promised the girls ice cream,” James said, watching as Rose made silly faces to make Maddie grin. The baby also attempted to mimic the facial expressions, though it often got distorted through a smile. “Do you want to come along?”

She bit her lip. “Mind if I borrow your shirt?”

He stripped off his t-shirt and took Maddie into his arms while Rose donned it. She then linked her arm loosely through his and together they walked to the ice cream shop further up the beach.

There was a stifling layer of tension between Rose and her mother when they returned. Sianin was utterly oblivious to it and too focused on her ice cream to care. Ainsley, however, kept glancing between Rose and Jackie until finally she sidled up to her father and whispered, “Are Mum and Gran okay?”

James wrapped his arm loosely around her waist and stole a lick of her ice cream cone before saying, “They had a tiny little argument. Nothing to worry about, darling.”

“Mum looks sad,” Ainsley said.

Indeed, Rose did look glum from where she sat, absently bouncing Hannah and Maddie’s feet against the sand.

“She’ll be all right,” James said, smiling at his child.

“I’m gonna see if she wants my ice cream,” Ainsley said with a little nod to herself.

James’s throat constricted as Ainsley pushed herself to her feet and plopped down beside her mum. Rose’s smile was genuine as she took a bite of Ainsley’s treat, but let their daughter finish it.

That evening, the family went out for dinner and then took a walk along the beach front. The heat of the day had burnt off, but the sand and water was still warm as they walked along the shallows.

They came across a group of musicians that was playing along the shore, and James pulled Rose into his arms for an impromptu dance. She laughed at him but let him spin her around in the sand.

After a minute, they saw Ainsley and Sianin dancing together, their bodies moving very badly to the beat of the music. But both girls were shrieking with delight, not caring how they looked. James and Rose cut in, dancing with each of their daughters in turn, before somehow managing to come together to concoct a strange four-person dance that was mostly them moving however they wanted to.

“Daddy my legs are tired,” Sianin puffed when they finished dancing. “Can I have a shoulder ride?”

“Sure thing,” he said, crouching down. He helped Sianin clamber onto his back, which was already exhausted from hoisting his children around in the sea that afternoon. When she was seated across his shoulders, Sianin leaned forward and pecked a kiss to his forehead.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she said.

“You are very welcome,” he replied. “Hold on tight.”

She dutifully wound her fingers through his hair and adjusted her balance as he began the walk back to their hotel. Rose watched him out of the corner of her eye. She fell into step beside him and threaded her fingers loosely through his.

“Love you,” she murmured, rubbing her thumb along his.

James was glad when the hotel came into view. He squatted to let Sianin hop off of his shoulders, groaning when his sore muscles were relieved of their burden.

“Can Ainsley and I have a sleepover with Gran and Grandad?” Sianin asked as they entered the hotel lobby.

“That’s up to Gran and Grandad,” Rose answered.

Sianin turned to her grandparents. James, knowing exactly how well Jackie and his dad could say no to her pleading face, was already looking forward to how quiet and empty his and Rose’s room would be that night.

Robert and Jackie both agreed, and Sianin squealed with happiness. Ainsley and Sianin gathered up all of the nighttime necessities they needed, then kissed their mum and dad goodnight before following their grandparents into the room next door.

“So… we have this giant room all to ourselves,” James purred as soon as the door snicked shut.

“Well, not all to ourselves,” Rose said, gesturing to their two slumbering babies.

“We can stuff them in the closet,” James mused, earning him a false glare from his wife before they each cracked a grin.

“What on earth are we to do with ourselves?” Rose asked, tapping her finger against her chin.

“Sit in utter silence then fall asleep in separate beds?”

“While that sounds like loads of fun, I think I might have a better idea,” Rose said, stepping into his personal space. “An idea that involves us being in one bed together without any clothes on.”

He looped his arms around her waist. “I think I like your idea better.”

They moved at the same time, with Rose tilting her head up as James ducked down, until their mouths met in a soft kiss.

It took a few minutes for them to shed their clothes since neither of them could be bothered to break their kiss. Instead, they fumbled with clasps and buttons and zippers, only parting long enough to haul their shirts over their heads.

James shivered as the length of his naked body came into contact with Rose’s. He backed her towards the bed until they were close enough to clamber onto it. The full moon shone through the open window, casting her skin aglow with silvery light. She was absolutely beautiful.

“I love you,” he said, settling his weight atop her.

Her body shifted automatically, her legs parting until his hips fit into hers. She draped her arms lazily over his shoulders, running her fingertips through the fine hairs at the nape of his neck.

“Let’s hope Ainsley and Sianin don’t come back,” she said with a wry smile.

“Best get this over with quickly, just in case.”

Rose giggled and pinched him, but hauled his head down to meet her for a languid kiss.

They kissed each other for a long while, not caring about anything but the press of their mouths, the slide of their bodies, the caress of their hands. They joined together when they absolutely couldn’t stand it anymore. With every thrust of their bodies, their love and pleasure mounted before reaching a crescendo of bliss and euphoria that left them panting and clinging to each other.

Basking in the afterglow, James kissed every inch of his wife that he could reach, delighting in the sleepy, sated expression on her face and the hum of satisfaction she let out every couple of seconds.

“I love you,” she slurred as he made another circuit of kisses across her collarbone.

“I love you, too.”

“Thank you for tonight.”

He lifted his head to smirk at her. “I could say the same.”

She snorted. “I meant… you made me feel better after what happened today. You made me feel… special. Cherished. Safe. Thank you.”

James brushed a rogue tendril of hair from her brow, then leaned down to press his lips lightly to hers once, twice, three times. “I am so sorry today was a bad day.”

“Me too.” She sighed. “I just want one day where my mum and I aren’t at each other’s throat. Is that too much to ask? I want my mum to be able to spend time with her grandkids, but it’s getting so hard for me. I don’t know what changed all of a sudden, but it’s like it was when I was a kid, and my mum disapproved about everything in my life. And I swear to God, if she starts picking at Ainsley or Sianin, I will cut off all contact with her. I will not let her take her foul mood out on my children and upset them.”

“Hopefully it doesn’t come to that,” James soothed.

“I wish I knew what happened that has made her snipe at me all the time now. Because something has changed, right? Are you seeing it too? Please tell me I haven’t gone mad.”

“No, I’ve noticed it,” he said. “And I wish I knew. It’s so hard to talk to her about it, either because it’s awkward to bring up the fact that she’s been rude and hurtful lately, or because as soon as I begin to imply something, she gets defensive about it.”

“Maybe we should move to the other side of the world,” Rose mused. “Give us all a bit of breathing room. But I can’t move away from your dad. Our family would literally not function without him.”

“Oi, give us a little bit of credit,” James whined, poking her tummy. “We would make do. But you know that he would follow us to the end of the world, right? If we wanted him to, he would uproot and move with us, no matter where we went.”

“I don’t know whether to feel guilty of grateful about that. Or whether I should feel pathetic that I always want him close by. Which now makes me feel like a terrible daughter ‘cos I want my father-in-law in closer proximity than my own mother.”

Rose pushed her face into a pillow and let out a frustrated scream. James patted her head reassuringly.

oOoOo

The rest of the vacation wasn’t as uncomfortable as James had feared it would be. He saw Jackie and Rose talking quietly the following morning and was relieved when both women embraced. They spent most of the day together on the sand with the babies, and no further arguments appeared to break out.

When they got home, James was glad to see Rose in better spirits. She began taking morning runs again and had signed up for a Pilates class. While he didn’t particularly notice any immediate changes in her physique, he was happy that she seemed happy about her body once more.

And she truly was happy. Rose was mortified by her reaction at the beach, both with her short temper with her mother and with her hatred of her body image. Getting active again helped with her mood, she was pleased to find. She took solo runs in the morning before James had to be at work, then at night after dinner, the whole family would take a leisurely walk through the neighborhood or to the park, if the weather was nice.

It seemed that everyone was in a great mood. She didn’t know if it was from the weather—which was comfortably warm and unusually sunny—but she was glad to see her family doing so well. Her kids were all getting along nicely during their summer holiday from school, and James was enjoying his work more and more. She was pleased that the situation with his coworker had more or less blown over.

Or at least, she had thought it had blown over.

When James informed her that the department was going out for drinks after work one night, she was more than happy to have an evening alone with her daughters. Rose took all four of them out for dinner and ice cream, then they came home to watch a film together.

However, the front door opened much earlier in the night than Rose had anticipated. She instantly knew the outing had not gone well, and a sense of foreboding slithered through her as she stood from the couch.

Sianin was faster and sprinted to the door to greet her father. When she reached him, she stated, “You smell gross, Daddy.”

“Daddy had a little accident and spilled some beer,” James replied. “I’m going to get a shower and wash it off.”

Rose frowned at her husband’s retreating form as he slinked off down the hallway. It wasn’t like him to not pop his head in and say hi. She padded after him.

“Daddy spilled beer on himself,” Sianin explained, passing her mother on her way back to the living room.

“Yes, I heard,” Rose said. “Go sit with Ainsley and watch the film. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He had to have heard her footsteps trailing after him, but James didn’t acknowledge her as he trekked to the bedroom. Rose followed James inside and latched the door behind them.

“What happened?” she asked softly.

He finally turned to look at her. His entire shirt was soaked and the stench of alcohol wafted from him. That definitely wasn’t an accidental spill.

“Rodney,” he said tightly, pulling his shirt over his head. “He threw his bloody glass at me.”

“Are you hurt?” she asked, alarmed. She took a step towards him, inspecting his upper body closely for cuts or bruises. There was nothing on his fair skin.

“He threw the contents of his glass at me,” he amended.

“What happened?” she repeated, silently fuming at Rodney.

“I’m the biggest wanker in the history of wankers, evidently,” James said. His voice oozed nonchalance, but there was a flicker of grief in his eyes.

“Start from the beginning,” Rose ordered.

And so James told her how his evening had gone. How he had mostly stayed clear of Rodney, electing to chat with Mark and some of his other work friends. But Rodney had bought drink after drink until he was properly drunk by the time the food was brought out. He moaned loudly to anyone who would listen that his wife had left him and taken their two children with her, and how he hadn’t seen his kids in three weeks.

That was when James had asked whether his wife was intentionally withholding them, or if he simply wasn’t making the effort to see them.

“I’ll admit, my wording was awful,” James said. “I hadn’t meant to imply it the way Rodney took it. But it didn’t matter. The words were out and Rodney began shouting at me for being a condescending knob who sneers down his nose at all other dads because they aren’t holier than thou like me.

“Then he started calling me a pansy who has no balls, et cetera, and that I’ve basically turned into a mother. He went on to make fun of me for taking the offered paternity leave that the university gives. He said he doesn’t remember a man every taking more than a couple of weeks, and here I’ve taken months when each of my kids were born.

“He then said my daughters are growing up without any masculine influences, and they’re in for a rude awakening when they’re introduced to real men. I told him that he can’t have it both ways: he can’t be angry that he isn’t seeing his children when he never made an effort to be with them. And then my mouth got the best of me, and I said I didn’t care what he said about me, because at least I’ve got my children to go home to tonight.” James rubbed his fingers into his eyes. “That’s when he chucked his beer on me.”

Rose’s pulse was pounding in her ears, and she had the inclination to stalk down to the pub and give Rodney a piece of her mind. She had no idea what to say to her husband. He looked so lost and defeated, so she wrapped him in a tight hug, not caring that he reeked of stale beer.

“And d’you know the worst part?” he whispered into her ear.

“There’s a worst part?”

He snorted, but it was a humorless sound. “I could tell a lot of my mates agreed with Rodney. At least on some level. When Rodney made the jab about me taking so much paternity leave, I saw the agreement on their faces.”

“Oh, James…”

“I’m not embarrassed or ashamed of how much I love you and our children,” he said fiercely. “I’d never be ashamed of that. But… it hurts so much that someone would tease me about it. Why is it considered so odd that I love my family? Why is it so odd that I want to nurture my daughters and be a safe place for them to come to? Why is it so odd that I enjoy spending time with you and our girls?”

“I don’t know,” Rose rasped, tears burning behind her eyes. Tears of sorrow, yes, but also tears of rage. She wanted to scream at anyone who dared make James feel badly about the most important part of his life. He was such a gentle soul, and she hated anyone who belittled him for it, or made him self-conscious about it.

“I thought we were friends. And not just Rodney. Everyone. All of my work mates. But how long have they thought this about me? This whole time, was everyone laughing at me behind my back?”

She squeezed him harder, wanting to fix his breaking heart but knowing she couldn’t. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t know what to do,” he murmured. “How am I supposed to face them all on Monday?”

“Don’t. Just quit. Up and leave. To hell with those arseholes. Stay at home with me and the girls and never go back to work again.

She was only partially kidding, but was pleased when a laugh bubbled out of him.

“Unfortunately, children cost money and I can’t in good conscience eliminate our sole source of income.”

“I’ll find a job again. We’d manage. Seriously, James. If you want to quit, we’ll figure out a way to make it work. I will not have you sacrificing your happiness at a job you used to love.”

He exhaled raggedly. “I appreciate that. Truly. But I do love my job still. I love teaching and working with my students and doing research and building instruments. I love all of that. But the people…”

“Get a new job at a new university,” Rose suggested.

“Tempting. But my job now is so good with letting me take time off for family reasons. I got so lucky with that.” He sighed. “No, I’m going to stick it out. Let this whole fiasco blow over. Things will go back to normal soon.”

For James’s sake, Rose hoped that was true. She gave his middle a final squeeze before backing out of his arms.

“For what it’s worth, I love how devoted you are to our children,” Rose said, smiling at him.

His face softened. “That’s worth more than you know. Thank you for listening.”

“Anytime,” she said. “I love you with everything I am, James.”

His smile broadened. “I love you, too, Rose.”

“Right, go on, get a shower. You stink.”

“Way to ruin the moment,” he muttered petulantly, though a small smile still tugged at his lips.

She winked at him, then turned and strode out of the room.

If you’ve read to the end, consider leaving a comment or reblogging? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

#ficandchips #doctorroseprompts #dwfic #doctor who #ten x rose #ten x rose au #soulmates #soulmates au #james x rose #kid fic #family fic #baby fic #my fic #family of six #perfectly matched series #soulmates verse #tw body image

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betweensceneswriter · 5 years

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Island Hopper-Chapter 21: Fertile Myrtle

Christmas surprises and a doctor’s visit

Previously on Island Hopper (Jimjeran Book 2): Chapter 20: Stocking Stuffers Christmas Eve Day/Christmas Morning Mashup

Island Hopper (Jimjeran Book 2) Full Table of Contents

Island Fever (Jimjeran Book 1) Table of Contents

Buy the revised, improved, de-Outlandered version of book one in paperback or on Kindle! Or just leave a review. I’ve got 11–thanks a bunch to those who have left one!

"I’ll slice the star fruit,” I offered, pulling a knife out of the block and one of the cutting boards from the cabinet, then coming to stand by my dad at the counter as he cut up fresh fruit for Christmas breakfast. Jamie perched on a stool at the island sleepily, devoting his attention to a cup of coffee, his freshly-showered hair in damp ringlets around his ears. He wore a fitted tee shirt, and I managed to get distracted from my fruit-cutting to stare at him for a few moments until he caught my eye. He looked down at his chest, and then slowly looked back up at me, realization flooding over his features.

“D’ye need me to hunt down a spider for you?” he asked with a grin, nose wrinkling at me. “Or is it just that your self-control hasna awoken yet?”

I shook my head with a guilty smirk, feeling flushed and slightly embarrassed even though none of my family seemed to have noticed our interchange.

At my sous chef post I nearly ran into my mother as she bent over to remove a pan of biscuits from the oven. Next to her Shelly stood at the stove top stirring some rapidly bubbling sausage gravy, and in the corner of the kitchen Seth was grinding more coffee for a second fill of the French press.

“I feel I shouldna be so lazy,” Jamie mused with a grin as he looked around the kitchen, “Wi’ all of you working so hard. But truly, I dinna think there’s room for another body in that space, as much as I’d like to be helpful.”

“Set the table,” I ordered, wiping my hands on a towel before retrieving a stack of dishes from the cupboard. “That way you don’t have to squeeze in here with us, but you don’t have to feel ‘so lazy’.”

Breakfast was a noisy affair with tales of favorite presents from Christmases past. Jamie took lead on the clean-up, with a meaningful glance in my direction that ended with me standing next to him, rinsing dishes and then handing them off for him to put in the dishwasher.

We were about to settle around the living room to open Christmas gifts when Dad got the call. It was hard to tell who had called him from our end, but I could make a pretty good guess. Christmas tended to be an emotional time of year on the base with airmen far away from their families. There had rarely been a Christmas when he hadn’t gotten a call to minister to someone—whether they were suicidal or just needing a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on.

I was right, gauging from the way my dad hung up the phone and turned toward us with an apologetic expression on his face.

“We’re not six years old anymore, dad,” Shelly teased as he made his excuses. “We can wait until later for presents!”

Despite Shelley's assurances, after dad left we sat around the front room aimlessly, trying to decide what to do.

“Well, we could go to Tarague,” Seth finally suggested. The rest of us were quick to agree, and so was Jamie once I explained that Tarague was a white sand beach on the Air Force base there on the northern coast of the island. For whatever geological reason it was the best of the beaches on Guam, many of which had coarse coral instead of fine sand.

Entering the air force base was the challenge, though my mother, Seth, and Shelly had base passes. Jamie and I handed over our passports, at which the guards looked us up and down while inspecting our unflattering photos. At the mention of Major Beecher, though, the MP smiled and waved us through.

The irony of wearing shorts and a tank top on Christmas didn't escape me, nor did it seem to escape Jamie, who looked me up and down with a small smile on his face. He was quick to pull me into his side affectionately as we began walking down the beach.

“Hey, Claire, do you remember that song you made up when I was little?” Shelly asked, walking backward in front of us. She grinned as she started to sing, rolling her hips in a hula motion.

“I’m dreaming of a green Christmas Just like the ones I used to know…”

With her hands, Shelly made graceful motions indicative of waves and wind and trees...

“Where the palm trees sway and children play And no one cares about the snow…”

Initially I rolled my eyes at Jamie, embarrassed of my younger self, but eventually I couldn't resist and joined her in belting out the last few lines.

“May your days be merry… And keen! And may all your Christmases be green!”

Jamie pretended to ignore us, but his little half-smile and raised eyebrows gave him away. The tide was low, so we walked out onto the wet packed sand, inspecting the surface carefully for shells.

“Remember,” mom scolded as I turned to Jamie, holding up a small spotted cowrie shell. “You can look for them, but you can’t take them!” At Jamie’s confused expression, she explained, “The naval base wants to protect the area, so they have stringent guidelines about beach behavior.”

“Including not taking shells,” said Seth. “Hey, man, you want to run? Breakfast was bad enough. Just wait until you see the calories you’ll be consuming for Christmas dinner.”

With a cursory nod, Jamie smiled. The two curly-headed guys--one ginger and one black-haired--began to jog ahead of us down the beach.

“I need exercise, too,” Shelly said, taking off after the two with little hesitation. I looked helplessly at my mom, and then followed behind them down the hard-packed white sand, sprinting as fast as I could to catch up to the boys and long-legged Shelly, all of whom were jogging with an easy lope.

“Hey, short stuff,” Seth teased as I came panting up behind them. “Those little legs just aren’t very fast!”

“Little legs, you say?!” I exclaimed in disgust, proceeding to shove Seth toward the waves, at a great advantage because of my low center of gravity. Seth stumbled and pushed back against me, but then got an impish look on his face. He bent over and grabbed me around the hips, lifting me up over his shoulder--my behind stuck up in the air--and headed toward the ocean.

I shrieked and pummeled his back. “Put me down, you dipwad,” I said. I could see the water around Seth’s feet and hear the waves getting closer. I knew the next sensation was going to be being plunged fully-clothed into cold ocean water, but then I saw another pair of large feet approach behind us.

“I’ll thank ye to unhand my wife, brother,” a deep voice said. I craned my neck to see Jamie, holding his hand out toward Seth.

Seth laughed and let me down gently, splashing sea water on my legs after I found my footing. I met Jamie’s eyes and smiled gratefully, then reached for his hand to walk back down the beach toward my mom.

Christmas evening, it was almost time for me to go pick up Joe when Mom got a message from Amy. Away on the other side of the earth, she had gathered Paul and my niece and nephews to videochat with us. They were all crowded together on their couch in matching pajamas, making faces at us when the call started.

“Gamma!” Three-year-old Evan started the greetings.

“You’ve gotten so big!” my mom exclaimed, then gave each grandbaby a little bit of attention. Five-year-old Kellen needed to show her his fingernail, blackened by smashing it in the car door. Seven-year old Brett grinned to show off his most recent tooth loss, and nine-year old Elsie stood up and twirled to demonstrate her latest moves from ballet.

After each grandchild felt noticed, Amy urged them to sit down so she could see. “Claire!” she exclaimed, once the little bodies had settled and squeezed in (and in the case of Evan, ran off to play). “Are you going to introduce me to your new husband?” I took the laptop from Mom and turned it toward the two of us so Jamie was in the frame with me.

“This is Jamie,” I said, leaning into him as he waved. “Jamie, my sister Amy..” After a little radio silence, Amy waved, “And her husband Paul” at which Paul waved as well. “And that’s Brett,” I said, pointing to the oldest boy with brunette hair, “And that one is Kellen,” I said, at which he stuck his tongue out at us. “Elsie is the only girl” met with a prim, shy smile. “And Evan is three,” warranted a run-by from the littlest, squealing “I’m fweeeeee!” as he raced past.

“Hiya to ye all,” said Jamie. “I hope we shall meet in person one day.”

Because of the lag time, a look of mortification had already appeared on Amy’s face by the time we heard the question that had caused it. “Where’s Uncle Frank?” Kellen asked, a look of confusion on his face.

“Oh, he’s not here,” I answered, trying to be as casual as possible as I inwardly cringed. “This is Uncle Jamie.”

Kellen responded offhandedly by simply chirping “Okay” and hopping off Paul’s lap. I felt Jamie’s tension dissipate quickly after that.

Via the computer screen Amy and family made the rounds, being passed to Seth, Shelly, and then back to Mom.

“So, where’s Daddy?” Amy asked

“You know, being a dad,” Mom responded. “He’s off at the base making sure the airmen make it through the holidays.”

Amy’s forehead wrinkled in concern. “That’s right, isn’t it? I’d almost forgotten… Well, Paul and I were hoping he’d be here for us to give you guys our Christmas present for the year.”

My mom nearly squealed with excitement. “Are you coming to visit?”

I scooted closer to my mom so I could see Amy, who was currently shaking her head with a impish smile on her face.

“Seth? Shelly?” Amy called out. “Can you guys come over so you can all see?”

Paul was grinning at Amy as Seth and Shelly squeezed in with us on the couch and Mom pushed the computer out on the coffee table so we were all in the frame.

Paul and Amy met each other’s eyes and nodded, and then Amy leaned off-screen as if to grab something.

Just as she was coming back into frame, the screen blipped and went blank.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” Seth said.

“Sethy, language!” my mother scolded.

Jamie gently elbowed me in the ribs with a little snicker. “She finds that offensive?” he whispered. “She would be absolutely stunned at you, ye potty-mouthed wee heathen.”

Seth was shuffling through a mess on the desk trying to find the power cord for the laptop when there was the sound of the front door opening. By the time the laptop had rebooted, my dad was also established on the couch with the rest of us, awaiting the call from Amy.

It didn’t take long for us to apologize before Amy picked up a piece of paper from her lap.

“What is it?” my mom asked, leaning forward to peer at the pixelated rectangle on the screen.

Amy held it upright, then rotated it until we could see the black page with some grayish splotches on it and a little bit of white writing at the top and bottom of the picture.

An ultrasound.

“You’re kidding!” Shelly exclaimed, just as my mom said in a stunned whisper, “You’re pregnant?”

Soon the four other Nelson children were hopping around occluding our view of their parents, chanting, “We’re having another baby! We’re having another baby!”

After congratulations and more chatter, we hung up from the call. In silence, we all exchanged glances. After all, four children was already quite enough. But Amy had always loved being a mom, and every one of my nieces & nephews were delightful in their own way, so the thought of another one wasn’t overwhelming.

However, I could feel Jamie’s grip tighten on my hand.

I couldn’t decide how I felt. Sure, he could pity me. Jamie knew how much I longed for children. But he also knew that we’d already decided that now was not the time.

In fact, I’d had my mom make me an appointment with my gynecologist Dr. Cruz for the next day, Monday the 26th, to consult with her about birth control options.

I paused for a moment as I entered the lobby. At first I couldn’t see him, but then I spotted Jamie behind the low curved wall that separated the children’s area from the general waiting room. His left arm was around a pudgy baby perched on his knee who was gleefully gnawing on the pad of his thumb while Jamie used his other hand to do a puzzle on the table next to him, ordered about bossily by a dark-haired little girl as a kindergarten-aged boy hung off Jamie’s neck.

The weary mother of these three niñ-niñs was currently breastfeeding another dark-haired baby apparently the same age as the one drooling over Jamie’s thumb and onto his knee. He was adorable. Sure, the baby was cute, too; but it was Jamie that made my heart jump. I wanted to mate with him right then and there.

I walked over toward him, waiting through the moments it took for him to register my presence.

“You can come in with me now, babe,” I said, smiling apologetically at the mother. The baby at her breast was milk-drunk and sleepy, so she set that one aside into one of the two baby carriers on the floor next to her and took the other from Jamie’s outstretched arms. Once the little guy saw his mama and knew food was coming, he started fussing instantly, continuing until she pulled him under her privacy cape. From the sounds of noisy lips smacking, I could tell the he’d found his lunch.

“Thanks so much,” she said with a grateful smile at Jamie, then glanced over at me. “Are you guys having a baby?” she asked.

When I paused in shock, she simply smiled and nodded toward Jamie with her head, the only part of her body not currently engaged in taking care of children. “It’s just, he’s going to be a great dad.”

I smiled at him as Jamie blushed.

When we reached Dr. Cruz’s office door, Jamie made eye contact with me before we entered. “Are ye certain you want me to come in?” he asked. “You dinna mind if I hear what she has to say?”

“You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to,” I replied, a little hotly. “I just felt like…”

“I wasna trying to start an argument,” Jamie responded. “It just seems very… personal.”

“Says the man who helped me figure out what to do when my period came on our honeymoon,” I said in a firm whisper, drawing close to him. “You were the one who suggested I go on the pill, after all.”

Jamie took a deep breath. “I’m not sure why, but we both seem on the defensive about this. Itok, Ri-palle. Let’s go in as a team.”

I followed his lead and took a deep breath of my own, then grabbed his hand. “I’m sorry,” I said.

“Dinna fash yerself,” he responded. “I ken ye have strong feelings about anything to do with fertility…”

Dr. Cruz invited us to sit opposite her at her desk, in two chairs set side-by-side. I was grateful she had brought us in there instead of the exam room--her office wall was covered with pictures of babies and numerous cards instead of the cringe-worthy posters of the female reproductive system that had been in the other location.

“From what we can see from the ultrasound, your ovaries look normal,” she said, pointing at two colorful blobs on the screen in front of her. “‘There did seem to be a few large collapsed cysts, which might indicate recent ovulation. Are the two of you wanting to pursue pregnancy?”

“In the future,” I said, “Not right away. We just got married a couple of months ago.”

Jamie raised his eyebrows at me as if questioning my honesty, and I grinned as I clarified, “Six weeks, a couple months…does it really matter?”

“So what are the two of you currently using for birth control?” she asked, glancing at us over her reading glasses.

“Nothing yet,” I responded, watching her eyebrows rise and feeling like some teenager getting scolded for unsafe sex. “I think I might be infertile, so we didn’t really worry about it.”

“We were, however, thinking that now might be a good time for birth control pills,” Jamie piped up. “To help with mood swings and the symptoms of PMS.”

Dr. Cruz pursed her lips. “I’m going to back you up just a bit... So Claire, you think you might be infertile? What brings you to that conclusion?”

“My ex-fiancé and I hadn’t used protection in five years and we hadn’t gotten pregnant,” I explained. “I’ve heard that no pregnancy within one year of unprotected sex is considered infertility, so I assumed that must be the case.”

The doctor’s forehead wrinkled and she nodded slowly as she opened up a window on her laptop. “Are your cycles regular or irregular?”

“Quite regular,” Jamie responded. “About every 27 days.”

The doctor’s cheeks dimpled as she tapped out a note on her computer. She looked up at Jamie. “You’re very observant, then.”

He blushed. “When something matters to me, I can be,” he joked with a grin.

“So, how long have the two of you been sexually active… with each other?” she asked.

“Six weeks?” I said hesitantly, making eye contact with Jamie, who flushed again with a slight shake of his head.

“When did you say you?....” Dr. Cruz’s voice trailed off as she realized the answer, her face barely registering a look of surprise; but then turning her attention to her screen again. “So, just a few more questions,” she said. “Have you had a blood test for STDs?”

“No,” I replied. “But I just had a blood test and physical before coming over to the Marshall Islands, and they checked for pretty much every communicable disease there is. And Jamie…” I turned to let him finish.

“I had the same--blood tests and immunizations--two years ago when I volunteered for UniServe International,” he answered.

“Have you always used protection since then, though?” she asked, persisting in her line of questioning.

“Well, I was a virgin when we married, ma’am,” Jamie offered. “I hadna had that kind of contact wi’ anyone.”

“What about oral?” She asked. ”Anal?”

Jamie's eyes widened and he flushed a deep red. “I said I was a virgin,” he stated, flustered.

“Some people don’t think those count,” she said, “though they can spread STDs just as often as vaginal intercourse if not more so. HPV, especially.”

For some odd reason, I felt like covering Jamie’s ears. Yes, he’d grown up around animals, and we had quite an open and honest relationship, but I snuck a glance at him to see that he was flushing all the way to the tips of his ears.

“For safety’s sake,” she said, “I would like to do a blood test for each of you. We gynecologists look out for different things than general practitioners.”

Jamie and I shrugged and nodded at her.

“Okay, let’s talk birth control,” she said. “So many options available, but I think what you want is one that provides a steady dose of progesterone. We could put it in an IUD, or you could get a shot every three months.”

“I’m a nurse practitioner,” I said, trying to save her the time. “I’ve given the Depo shot to many different women in the islands.”

“Then you may have an idea of what kind of method you want to use,” she responded, sitting back in her chair and looking at me, eyebrows raised.

“I thought just the pill,” I said. “I had some negative side effects the last time I used birth control, so I wouldn’t want anything that wouldn’t be easy to stop using.”

She pulled a stiff chart out from a rack behind her and put it down on the desk in front of us.

“If you haven’t used the pill for five years, you may have stopped before the current varieties were developed. There’s the typical 28-day packet you may have used before, or I could prescribe you the kind that cuts back to only four periods a year by keeping you on a steady dose of hormone for nearly three months, then placebo pills for a week.”

I eyed Jamie, who was listening intently, seeing that he had a question. “As one of the reasons Claire is looking at birth control is to regulate her emotions, would that be a good thing?”

“Actually, yes,” Dr. Cruz responded to him. “Those particular pills are often preferred by those who take the pill specifically for mood regulation because they don’t have the monthly drops in hormone levels that cause those mood swings.”

“And just one period every three months?” Jamie asked intently, leaning forward and looking at the chart in front of her as I chuckled and shook my head next to him, blushing slightly.

Dr. Cruz smiled at me. “Yes. I find many women appreciate the ability to not be concerned about their periods arriving at inconvenient times. And also to be more spontaneous in their sex lives,” she said, “unhampered by pain and flow every four weeks.”

I blushed and nodded.

"Well, what do you think, Jamie?” I asked, feeling some uncomfortable emotion rise inside that I couldn’t name.

He turned to me. “Claire, ye ken it isna my choice. What I care most about is that you feel better.”

I realized then what I was experiencing--bitterness. I hated being in the OBGYN waiting room. I hated pregnant bellies. I hated seeing car seats and binkies and baby blankets and nursing covers and tired-eyed mothers. Of course I felt a pang in my heart at the sight of fuzzy-headed infants, but I hated that pain too. And all that bitterness was manifesting itself as a fierce independence that didn’t want to be told what to do. If I didn’t have control over my ability to have children, I for damn sure didn’t want anyone else to try to take over my choice to NOT have children.

Jamie had reached over and was gently stroking my back, looking at my face. I could feel a thickness in my throat, could start to feel my eyes begin to tear up. Focusing on the comfort of Jamie’s warm hand on my back, trying to ignore the adorable photos of wide-eyed babies behind Dr. Cruz, I took a deep breath and sighed, leaning forward to go over my options once again.

Next on Island Hopper:

Chapter 22: Tarzan Falls A hike with friends, and an unexpected reunion at Our Lady of Lourdes.

#Island Hopper #Jimjeran book 2 #Jamie x Claire #BetweenSceneswriter #Marshall Islands #Guam #infertility #Christmas #fluff & angst

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smolbeandrabbles · 5 years

Text

Sway Pt.1 - Danny Rayburn x Reader (Bloodline)

Here / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10

Author’s Note: Hello! Welcome to my first Tumblr published Fanfic! (Please be gentle!!) I’ve written many before, I’ve just not been this brave... I’m kinda proud of this one.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OC. I have watched one episode of Bloodline but before I started watching I read a lot. This could be inaccurate. You have been warned. Could I have watched more before writing, Yes. But I hope you know how it feels to start something and be unable to stop...! Also, my knowledge of Miami consists of one trip.

Premise: This is what happens when you watch Dirty Dancing 2 AND start Bloodline all in one day!!(Then listen to some Camila Cabello) You meet Danny in a bar intent on having a good time and leaving. He has other ideas.

Word Count: 7097 (I cannot write short, you’re in this for the long haul.)

Warnings: Sex is discussed/hinted at. (Cannot write smut to save my life!) drinking. one night stand.

Y/N = Your Name. She doesn’t really have much of a description but she is loosely based on an OC of mine. (hence, tattoo.) We’ll see how it goes and I might be brave enough to sequel...

It was only just a little slow dancing, Just a little romancing on a Friday night We shared some drinks, yeah, only a couple But it sure wasn't nothing that would change my life

---

Friday – 11:30pm – Little Havana, Miami

If there was one thing you loved it was the Cuban bars you could find down in Little Havana… you may have lived in uptown Miami (with the lifestyle to suit) but something about your roots always pulled you back here. It was the way they danced, you guessed. The seedy little clubs here where they held each other too close… and it was too hot and exactly everything you loved. You knew that you could easily be the Queen in any of them, but you never had a King. It didn’t really matter to you, you could light the room on fire alone, with all eyes on you as you moved your body in all the right ways to the music. On occasion men would at least try to dance with you – but you knew you had a reputation, and that scared a lot of them off. Tonight you were fine alone, you needed to dance off a hard work week and both your friends were at some swanky uptown champagne party you had not been invited too, nor had the patience for, you were content to dance the night away man or no.

Unbeknownst to you, you had caught the attention of one man in the room. Well, more than just one man, but everyone else was looking to make the move at the right moment… he was only looking to make a move. Danny Rayburn didn’t often come to Little Havana, but tonight was a night he just wanted to get away from everything about Miami he knew and get into something else. Maybe even literally. He was glad that he did, leaning against the bar, beer in hand, he watched her own that dance floor. There wasn’t even much space in here, or room to breathe in the hot smoky atmosphere but she commanded that floor like the Queen she likely was. He pressed his tongue against the corner of his mouth as he watched her… Fuck… That dress hugged her so tight it might as well have been painted on; the plunge at the front also meant it left little to his imagination… He was content to watch her all night from here, if he didn’t want to put his hands all over her instead. He took another gulp of beer and pushed through the crowd, all eyes on you.

When he put his hands on you, you felt yourself smirk, gliding over your dress, across your waist and your hips, pulling your body into his, your back was flush against his chest. He ground his hips into yours with more confidence than even some of the men who danced with you regularly had. You placed your left hand over his, to direct the way he wandered; better to let him know who was really in control of this situation. Turning your head you were met with piercing blue eyes, you felt your breathing hitch at how intensely he stared… Whatever you expected, the man staring back at you was not it. You ran your hand through his hair, thick and long enough for you to tangle your fingers in it, pulling him closer to you – which he clearly didn’t mind at all; pulling you tighter against him if that was even possible. His grip was strong, but it didn’t bother you – sometimes they bothered you – he felt safe, safer than anyone in this bar had ever made you feel. You let his hand go, and you knew almost horrifically that you trusted this man – you let him lead you, lead your body, you wanted him to touch you. It wasn’t just the atmosphere that was hot anymore, you could feel your heart beat quicken as he grazed your skin. His rhythm was intoxicating and all you wanted to do was breathe him in. Unlike the way your parents danced, classically trained as they were – despite your fathers’ ancestry – you and him were locked in an embrace and a dance that would not need you to move across the floor. That was the point; you could be the centre of attention without moving an inch… Your breathing hitched again as his hands moved lower than they perhaps should have, you meant to give him a warning look – but you knew you didn’t at the way he touched his forehead to yours. You knew his effect on you; but quickly you realised you were effecting him – he was taking breaths that matched yours and the look in his eyes, no longer piercing but dark, lustful. You felt your cheeks heat up because this dance was no longer an act. This was a few layers of clothes away from being about something else entirely… You bit your lip and felt yourself smile. This evening was going to end up being significantly longer than you had ever wanted it to be.

“We should get out of here…” His eyes flicked from your eyes to your lips and back, and then he grinned, as if you had just read his mind.

Saturday - 10am – Danny’s Apartment, Miami.

He was probably still just a little drunk when he woke. The clocked flashed in bold red ‘10am’. At least he knew he could turn up to work whenever and still not be late… His mystery girl - he believed her name was y/n but he didn’t know if he was making that up or not, it suited her, though – was not beside him. He sighed, for a second the thought that she had simply just left hurt him, she’d be just like everyone else. He rubbed his eyes sleepily and realised that, no! She was still here! Standing by the window overlooking the street, lost deep in her thoughts…

You had got up around an hour before; no regrets stuck in your head as you regarded the man next to you for just a minute… He was surely a lot older than you, but, he was at least cute… You realised stupidly that he knew your name (Damn he’d sighed it enough!), but you hadn’t asked his, and he hadn’t exactly offered it either. First mistake, you supposed. You left the bed, showered, and were half way through getting dressed when you became concerned that you weren’t even sure which part of Miami he lived in. And this was surely his apartment because it wasn’t yours! …Perhaps that was for the best, if he knew your name AND where you lived… It was small, and although it looked lived in you weren’t exactly sure it was him who had lived in it… There were moving boxed scattered throughout, and you would forgive him that for not having the space. However, most didn’t even look opened. And that spoke to you of a man who was in slight denial of his current situation… and that, depending on what that situation was, could be problematic… You lent against the window frame and gazed down onto the streets below and out over the roof tops. You could still see the sea from here… but the skyline was still a mystery to you.

“Isn’t that a little ironic?” His husky morning voice managed to send an involuntary shiver down your spine, you turned to him, eyebrow raised; He was studying your back intently. “Hmmm?” “Your tattoo is a bible quote.” Without a shirt the script across your left shoulder was visible; “How do you know that…?” He didn’t strike you as the church on Sunday type. Well, maybe a different kind of church. “Psalm 23:4 kinda gives it away.” Looks like you’d nailed that, then. You laughed, “What makes it ironic?” He stood and walked across the floor, he was built well and you at least had to admire that. Ha, at least I woke UP with a 10. Many times had you had alarming phone calls from your friends pleading you to pick them up from a 10 turned 2. He smirked at the travel of your eyes but it didn’t bother you, you wanted to remember what you couldn’t remember. Today, that left you a little disappointed in yourself. He placed his hands either side of your face, effectively pinning you up against the glass. His eyes flicked down your body and he ran his tongue across his bottom lip, you felt your heart start up again as his blue eyes locked on yours. “If you’re a good Southern Christian Girl you should probably be in confessional by now…” He still hadn’t rid himself of his morning voice and he threatened to drive you crazy again. You held yourself back; “I don’t know… it’s not a Sunday… I’ve got all of today yet.” “Well, then, maybe we should make it worth your while and get a little more sinning done…” Okay… There we go, you laughed, ducking underneath his arm; “Honey, I’d love to stop and stay, but I should probably get going…” “...What? No, you don’t have to leave…!” “I really should…” you flicked your eyes over your shoulder “I do kinda need to borrow a shirt… though…” He hesitated for just a minute and you could see his brain working in his eyes; “…Yeah… Yeah sure…” He started searching through his things, leaving you amused and shaking your head as you gathered your dress from where it had pooled on the floor, you folded it neatly, and moved through into the next room. He swung around the door barely seconds later half-dressed himself to hand you a black shirt; “Oh! Thank you…” He made sure his hands brushed against yours as you took it from him and he watched you pull it over your head. He bit his lip gently, watching you smooth it down to fit to your figure. Something about the fact you were now wearing his shirt made him feel like you were his… And he realised then he wanted you to be more than just a one-night stand. Of course, your mind was going in a different direction entirely. You’d had a great time, you always did… and you’d had a few nights like this but you’d never been looking for anything. And you weren’t now either. “Hey wait – no – you – you can stay for breakfast?” You smiled at the fact he was still trying “… I’ll make you something.” “No, no, it’s okay really…” though, you had to say, what man had ever offered to make you breakfast before? “Not even coffee?” “No… I’m fine…” You could do with something, but it was better to love them and leave them than sit here and think on it for another hour… “Oh… Okay…” it was clear he was more than just a little disappointed. Then, he dashed back across the room, picking up a pen he searched for a piece of paper, anything… Oh here we go… This was only heading in one direction. He scribbled something and crossed back to you; “Take it…” “I don’t need your number…” That didn’t deter him, he kept his hand out in offering… You looked from his hand to his face and back “How else are you going to give my shirt back?” Well, you weren’t. That’s how it worked. You sighed, giving in but knowing you were never going to call a man whose name you didn’t even know. You took it gently from him, folding it up, you slid your feet back into your heels. “Do you want me to call you a cab?” “I’ll be fine. Honestly. And you don’t need to walk me down stairs either…” He knitted his eyebrows together with an expression that showed you were clearly hurting him. You opened his door and turned back to him with all sincerity; “I had a great time last night… I really, really did… No one has ever made me feel that way as a dance partner… and…” You trailed off noting that you were making the look on his face too hopeful; “Maybe I’ll see you on the dance floor again…” “Yeah, CALL me.” He said, like that was so obvious. “Yeah… Okay…” Not a chance!

You closed the door behind you, shaking your head gently and taking the stairs quickly whilst contacting your ride back to your apartment… You only stopped at the bottom to check you actually had your keys and everything else you had packed in your bag. When it became apparent that you did, your phone chimed to let you know your ride was here. And upon exiting the building you realised that you were on the street you had just been staring at. You smiled to yourself, and as you opened the car door you turned and looked up to the window. Predictably he was standing watching you… Now dressed in slacks and a similar black shirt to the one he had handed you. He offered a wave, which made you smile that little bit more and return it before you hopped in the car – recognising you were essentially wearing a man’s shirt as a dress and needed to get home ASAP. You closed the door behind you and didn’t look back as the taxi pulled away from the curb. Pulling out of the street and onto a main road you noticed that you still had the paper in your hand… you unfolded it; and you only realised how much you were smiling when you felt your cheeks hurt. Danny.

When you entered your own apartment, nearly a stark contrast to his, you finally took a breath out. However when you breathed in you stopped in your tracks; “Oh my god…” you took another breath. Of course his shirt would smell like him… You placed all your things on your kitchen counter and sat on a bar stool for a minute, gathering the fabric up you inhaled again and closed your eyes. All you could feel then was the way his body pressed against yours as you danced… and how it seemed to fit so well when you – “NO!!!!” You snapped your eyes open, gathering your things back up and walking to your bedroom. You weren’t going to do this. A one-night stand was a one-night stand, you’d done it before with zero consequences and this one would end the same way. Two weeks down the line when you ventured out alone again and found another man to hold you on another dance floor, Danny would be another one in a long line until you decided you actually needed to find someone ‘for real this time’. God knew your parents were hoping for that day sooner rather than later. Still, with the full intent of changing when you arrived home, you didn’t take his shirt off all day.

***

Sunday – 9:30am - Uptown Miami

Your friends decided it would be a fantastic idea to head out for Sunday Brunch, and you’d spent the back half of your Saturday planning this out, and then where exactly you would find yourself afterwards… likely day drinking at some pool party, or maybe down on the beach… There was always shopping on the strip… With all day and endless possibilities, Friday was the last thing you were thinking about. The sunshine was brilliant today and you’d spent a good hour this morning lazily tanning yourself on your balcony… The shirt was now somewhere in your laundry, and his number at the bottom of your bag and you hadn’t thought about calling it once.

Eventually you decided you had to get ready, pulling on a white blue-and-burgundy-striped wrap dress. It pulled in tight to make you look like an hourglass and it cut flatteringly deep but was still sophisticated. You pulled on heeled sandals and pushed Raybans into your curled hair. You kept your lips simple, like your gold jewelry, but your eyes smokey. Your nails painted the same burgundy that ran through your dress. Your designer bag of course matched in the same colours. With a spritz of your favourite perfume you left your apartment to join your friends downstairs. The car pulled up to collect you and they both greeted you with a hug; Amanda and Evelyn had been your best friends most of your life and you were each other’s good AND bad influences.

“Well DAMN girl! Every man is going to be looking at YOU!” You eyed them both; “US! Come on!” The driver took you the scenic route down by the water, and you watched the way the sun glittered across the blue expanse… and suddenly you realised you didn’t even know where you were heading; “What’s this place we’re going?” You turn to them both, knowing they’d probably agreed without you, because you were never really the best at deciding on things. “Oh! Well! My parents really rate it! And it’s got super good reviews… Look it’s even in here…! This Danny Rayburn guy must be really something…” She turned the magazine just quick enough for you to catch a glimpse of the picture and for Friday night to come flooding back – no, no! That was a trick of the light and just the name being Danny SURELY… “What!? What’s he called!?” “Danny Rayburn?” “Let me actually read that!” You weren’t sure if she handed the magazine over or you grabbed it from her. And you also weren’t sure of the expression on your face when you looked at the picture more closely. Oh, you have GOT to be Fucking kidding me…. “Did you book it?” ANYTHING to avoid him… “Well no, but… It’s meant to be amazing… Since when were you one to shirk away from food?” “Uhm. No that’s not-” “Did you not want to come?” “That’s not it!” “Y/N! Don’t you think it’s about time we tried somewhere new?” They both gave you the same look with big wide eyes and you sighed, defeated. Hopefully it’d be your lucky day…

You decided it was better to push Danny to the back of your mind and not start looking for him around here. If you started looking to avoid him you’d probably end up spotting him and that was not the aim. Quite the opposite. You decided it wasn’t to be your lucky day when the waiter showed you all to one of the elevated tables against the wall, in full view of the kitchen. You felt your heart start again, but this time it was anxious… okay… Y/N… You can do this…! Sure he owns the place but that doesn’t mean he’s actually HERE! You studied the menu harder than you really meant to, head down and focused, you placed your hands either side of your face and read. You were beyond intrigued – everything sounded like a safe-bet modern classic… but when you read between the lines everything had a slightly out of place quirky twist. Suddenly you were starting to piece together Danny Rayburn for yourself… and you had to be honest, you quite liked the picture…

Your friends were also both single, and the waiter was typically tall, dark and handsome. So whilst you were trying not to be seen (even with what you had opted to wear) they were gratuitously flirting with the poor guy. When his laugh became a little uneasy, you cut in; “Maybe you two should stick to mocktails!” They both gave you a near enough horrified look that you would suggest brunch without alcohol, the waiter looked more than grateful, to which you smiled. “Hopefully they both won’t scare you off!” The great thing about having Hispanic roots was there were so many people in Miami that were exactly the same… “I’ve seen worse!” He grinned “Are you ready to order?” “Me, yes… please excuse my friends, they are trying desperately NOT to live the single life.” “Haha! They are excused.”

You started with your drink, it was like your signature and you always lamented how no two bars could ever make it the same. He seemed rather accepting of the ingredients – sometimes restaurants would hate you for it, and one had all but refused to serve you something that wasn’t on the set menu. Apparently not Danny’s. Your friends ordered more alcohol than you thought was safe to consume at this time in the morning and you had a sneaking feeling they had a lot to tell you about Friday night. When it came to the food you ordered very carefully. Heck, if you’d taken Danny up on his offer of breakfast you’d actually know how good the guy was to be adventurous but you felt playing it safe – but by no means simple – was the way to go. Amanda was going down no such route and even Evelyn eventually had to stop her; “Amanda, honey, we can’t order the entire menu!” “Evie! I’ll have what I want!” You raised an eyebrow; “You had an eventful Friday, it seems.” “We are NOT talking about it!” Amanda pointed a finger to swear you to silence. Evelyn made a face as if to agree with her. The waiter took that as his queue to get out quick, but not without thanking you, personally, in Spanish.

Amanda folded her arms with a pout; “UGH! Why do you always do that! You tell us off for flirting, then off you GO! He’ll be interested in you now!” “I’m sorry, maybe you two should have taken my offers of Spanish lessons more seriously!” “School made it so tedious though!” “Amanda, since when were you ever interested in school…” you shook your head and resumed your position of leaning your head in your right hand. Evelyn was better at reading between the lines, “What is going on with you Y/N?” “What do you mean?” “You’re usually right in there with all your adventures! And heck, everything you get up to at your so called job, and our nightlife..!” “You just told me not to ask about it!” “Well, aside from one mishap, our night was innnnnnncredible… Like, you honestly need to go to one of these parties Y/N!!” “No I really don’t!” “OH. Wait! I KNOW! What happened on Friday!” Amanda realised that whilst you weren’t with them, you most definitely would have been out on Friday. “WHAT!?” Of the three of you, you were one least likely to get in trouble. “Well what was he, a solid 1? Not even a solid 1?” “A solid -10?” Evelyn had them both falling about laughing. “…I didn’t say anything about a guy!” “No, but you’re clearly hung up on him!” They giggled again. “I thought the rule was we DIDN’T get hung up on one-night toy-boys.” You took Evie’s turn of phrase. “Well at least tell us about him!?” “There’s nothing to tell! You clearly both had a better night.” “At least tell us where!” You hesitated; “Little Havana.” “OH! OHHHH! That’s why you’re bringing the Spanish out!” “NO. Would you two please stop!” They just giggled to themselves again; geez. Now you needed that drink.

Danny Rayburn wasn’t one for thinking he had good luck. So he had to pinch himself. It took him a while to spot her, but when he did there was no denying that the girl from Friday night had walked into his restaurant. He studied her from the kitchen window with a smirk. She was halfway through her drink by now and the group of three were in very animated conversation. He could hear her laugh from here. She had made his day and it wasn’t even lunch time yet. “Danny what are you staring at?” “You won’t actually believe this…!” He nodded towards her “That girl I was talking about?” “From Friday!?” Jason slid over to the window to peer though; “Yeah. She’s over there…!” “OH Damn! Look at her! Did you tell her you worked here?!” Danny shook his head; “Nope!” He raised his eyebrows “God knows what I did, but I better be thanking my lucky stars.” He turned back to look at his chefs; “Who has table 14′s order?” Javi, who was waiting it and had just come past to collect something else tapped one of the clipped pieces of paper; “Right here, Danny.” “Oh. I got this one.” He pulled the paper and studied it, impressed. “Any particular reason?!” Javi began trying to balance plates and turned back to the table, sure the three girls were all very attractive in their own right and from here were in Danny’s direct line of sight, but Danny liked a challenge and that order was hardly complicated. Jason answered for him; “Cuz the girl in the white dress is the one he’s been talking about since he got in yesterday.” Danny nodded his agreement. “Ahhhhhh!! I’m going to assume she has no idea.” Jason gasped in mocking; “Why would you hurt him so!” “Well, she hasn’t exactly asked after you Dan!” “Oh she will, give me a hot minute…” Javi’s eye’s flicked to the other chef; “Jason, you’re a betting man.” “I bet she walks out before Danny gets a word in edgeways.” “Shutupbothofyou!” Javi dodged the swipe expertly and laughed “You’re ON Jase!” “UGH! HE IS SO STARING AT YOU!!” Amanda hissed across the table, you turned to see that indeed the waiter for your table was watching you with a smile… you turned back to her, intent on playing the situation; “Well what do you want me to do Amanda, give him my number?” “No but you can give him Amanda’s?” “Wow, Evie, you’re a regular expert.” You laughed. “Why have I never thought about that…” You nodded to Amanda “You can have ALL of them.” “She’s going to need them all at the rate she’s going!” That sent you and Evie laughing, and Amanda back into a folded arms huff; “You two are not funny!” “Actually, you can HAVE a number I recently collected…” You trailed off as your waiter came back to the table with your dishes… and your friends weren’t wrong he was surveying every detail of you, and it was a little unnerving. He was surely cute, but he was not your type. “Please enjoy Miss…!” He almost bowed, deep, and with a wink and then wandered off to his other tables, but not without a glance back. The others turned almost completely around to watch him go. “Well, if that man does not want that dress on his bedroom floor then I don’t know who does…” Amanda shook her head, “Please, PLEASE take him up on the offer and do it for me.” “UH. NO.” “oh come on, when was the last time you had sex y/n? And I mean really GOOD sex.” You opened your mouth; uh, Friday? , but decided to hold back “…What you really mean is good sex I actually remembered… Ah, Alcohol my old friend!” You took another sip of drink and they both looked to each other with an eyebrow wiggle.

The food was gorgeous, and you savoured every single bite. Goddammit now you were really regretting NOT taking him up on breakfast. In fact, it was so good you were seriously considering a whole 180 on the situation and almost FORGOT you were supposed to be being inconspicuous. And you were all in agreement on this; you were now a few glasses in, and you’d switched to sangria – your waiter was more than impressed at that – and they had staggered the dishes so both not overwhelm you, and in such a way that they complimented each other. This was likely up there as one of your top brunches ever. The more alcohol your friends put in their systems the more the hilarity of their Friday night drinks party came to light – including the guy who got too touchy with Amanda in all the WRONG ways and how she’d had a drunken screaming fit at him that had set everyone else in the room into total stunned silence. But, although they kept pressing you for detail, you were keeping Danny Rayburn as buried as his phone number. That one was for you to keep.

Your concentration on your plan lapsed, of course it did, you were having a good time with your friends and you were drinking and your eyes wandered. The restaurant was beautiful, and wouldn’t look out of place anywhere on the Miami strip. You knew how much of a pretty penny real estate was, it was how your dad had made his money, and still was making… This place couldn’t have come cheap. And it was up together like someone constantly poured their heart and soul into it. If it was him, you’d seen his apartment and you thought they couldn’t be further apart. You looked to the kitchen for barely a few seconds; but it was enough for everything to shock you back to reality. He wasn’t even looking at you, not at first, but he was instantly recognisable. And when his eyes flicked up to meet yours you knew that he’d known you’d been here for a long time – your eyes didn’t meet by chance, because he didn’t expect you to be looking at him. You looked away just as quickly; no, no, no, no, no, no… okay, don’t panic y/n, he’s working. If you make your excuses now you can go before he even has the chance to leave… and look how busy it is, he doesn’t have time… One thing was for sure the table was going to be the most interesting thing in the world until you could leave. All at once you lost the majority of your appetite, to nerves, of all things.

Danny watched the shock, or, horror that crossed her face as his eyes locked into hers. The way she turned back to the table too fast and he knew she wasn’t looking back here any time soon – but the blush that crossed her cheeks and crept up her face and down her neck… He’d done that! He bit his lips together. He had two choices… maybe he had many more, but to Danny it was obvious. He could go out there and talk to her, or he could stay in here and watch her walk out of another door. He wasn’t sure how many chances he could afford to spend. “Jason, watch the kitchen for a minute I’m going out there.” “WHAT?!” Jason’s tone let him know he thought Danny was insane “Are you kidding!? Are you going out there?! You’re going to let Javi win the bet!? What about Kitchen loyalty man!” “Look I’m just gonna have to owe ya! That or you can take the constant piss when I screw this up!” “If you screw this up.” “This is me, Jase, it’s a when… Wish me luck!” He patted his friend on the shoulder and headed towards the swinging kitchen doors. All the chefs looked to each other, and Jason knew that for the next 5 minutes, there would be no cooking done here.

You dared to peak through your fingers and to your dismay he’d left his work station and now appeared to be tracking into the main restaurant. Please, just be going ANYWHERE but here… He caught your waiter’s arm and they exchanged a quick conversation before he rounded the bar and headed towards your table.

“SHIT!” You grabbed a drinks menu, which suddenly became very interesting and covered your face with it, both your friends looked up at you without a clue, probably about the voice the exact same question. Not that they got the chance. You were aware of just how hot you felt, how fast your heart was beating and the nerves that were bundled in your stomach. This could only go so wrong, surely. “So, just imagine my surprise when of all people to walk into my restaurant this morning, you happened in here… Y/N.” You didn’t know what his normal voice sounded like, considering your brief conversation the morning previous. But it could only have been him that had spoken.

Both your friends were staring at him now, wide eyed and open mouthed. You weren’t surprised, they had seen the article too and his picture it couldn’t have been anyone else. And he was talking to you. You lowered the drinks menu slowly, allowing you to regain some composure as you swallowed hard, met by those dazzling blue eyes. To your dismay you also quickly noticed that your friends weren’t the only ones staring, but the whole restaurant wanted to know what exactly was so important it had dragged Danny Rayburn out of the kitchen. If you didn’t focus on him, you were going to die. “Well, apologies for not realising you owned a restaurant on the riviera.” – Damn, that confidence had come out of nowhere, maybe it was the adrenaline but you sure were glad of it. He was clearly amused; “You never exactly asked.” “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly ask for your number either.” “Oh, you remembered I gave it to you, I haven’t seen you try calling it.” “You know girls like to leave guys waiting. Right?” “Not even on the cab ride home?” he shook his head “I thought Friday went down well.” Your friends expressions changed dramatically; and they quickly grasped that you KNEW when you read that article this morning, you knew EXACTLY what you could be getting into, and here you were – IN IT. “Would you call a guy that didn’t even give you his name?” “You didn’t seem all that interested in finding out.” You weren’t sure if you were riled or impressed that he was pushing this all back on you. Your eyes flicked behind him to the kitchen, now at a complete standstill as they joined everyone in watching the two of you. Including your waiter. He wasn’t interested in you, you comprehended Danny had told his entire staff of your existence and you’d just voluntarily walked through that front door. “You seemed pretty good at saying mine.” Your friends switched from staring at him to staring wide eyed at you and you could see them bursting to ask the question. He almost took a physical step back; you were playing him at his own game. He liked you even more now. “Y/N. It’s a good name. I wouldn’t mind saying it more often…” His eyes flicked down the cut of your dress slowly – you’d already guessed that he wanted to pool this one on the floor of his little apartment too… “Anyway, I really came to ask how you and your friends are enjoying my restaurant.” You were calling heavy bullshit on that, but you had to at least admit to him that it was incredible, with a grateful smile “…Amazing… But I had a feeling you knew that…” “I try.” He didn’t wink, but it was present in his voice. “What is most important is you enjoy your time here…” For the first time his eyes left you and looked to your friends, who were still in stunned silence. “…Can I get you anything else?” Both of them took far too long to regain any semblance of speech, so you ended it before they could; “Just the check.” You read the wince that didn’t cross his face and the horror of you even saying it that crossed Amanda and Evelyn as they swiveled between the two of you again. Your face remained as stoic as possible; he ran his tongue across his lips and then shook his head; “NO. No, you’re not paying. This is on the house.” Oh my GOD. He HAS to be THAT guy. “I’m capable of paying for myself. Thanks.” You let him know you weren’t having it. “NO I insist.” He turned back to your waiter “JAVIER, Clear the check for table 14!” You could honestly have killed him right then and there, he turned back to the table, placing his hands down he lent in close to you in a way that made you back up, but also have instant flashbacks to his body pushed up against yours… you could breathe him in again now… Oh God… He smells so damn good… “I gave you that number for a reason… You really should call it.” He murmured it, his voice almost growled and you wished he hadn’t… Because you were heating up everywhere else now. He let his eyes linger on yours for a few moments more, before, satisfied, he wandered back to his kitchen.

Luckily your friends waited until the door to the restaurant had swung closed behind you; “DID YOU SLEEP WITH DANNY RAYBURN!?” “In my defence I didn’t know that’s who he was.” “DID YOU GET DANNY RAYBURN’S NUMBER!?” “I didn’t WANT his number he wouldn’t give up I told you this.” “GIRL! WHAT! WOMEN WOULD KILL FOR THAT!” “Do you want it!?” Amanda seemed to weigh up her options for a second; “Yeah – No – YES!” “Then go back in there and ask him, seems he’s not shy about handing it over!” “He literally just PAID for us! What even was that!? You could cut that sexual tension with a knife, LORD. Y/N!!! Get back in there!!” “NO!” You put a stop to that right then and there “There was no sexual tension either!” “Girl, I thought Javi was bad, that man undressed you with his eyes, undressed himself and then pushed you back on that table. That much was obvious.” The fact Evelyn had that mental image in her head didn’t detract from the fact you couldn’t un-see it. “I mean was he any good!?” Amanda got back to what she felt was important “Oh my god! Go and sleep with him yourself.” “I would but he’s already slept with you, so I’d rather get it from the source.” You sighed “I don’t know.” “You don’t know!?” “I was drinking. It always gets sketchy… bits are less… clear…” you gave a slight smirk “I mean, he’s a solid 10… so…” Amanda let out a lament and buried her face in her hands “And BOY can he cook.” Evelyn mused “Well yeah, he’s got that I suppose.” You folded your arms “But I am NOT calling him. I’m not doing this! It’s a RULE! He was a one-night stand, and it happened and that’s that. I am DONE with Danny Rayburn.” You closed the door to your apartment and almost screamed. Why!?! Whhhhhy!? This was NOT how it was meant to happen. That was your golden rule, this was never how you were going to end up dating someone… where exactly could you go after a one-night stand!? He knew more about you than you would care to tell or show someone you had been solidly dating for months. You supposed this was just the Universes way of laughing in your face.

Still, you didn’t give in right away. Although, hours in your apartment alone with your thoughts was not helping things… There would be no harm in trying, that might have been true… but… from your observation of his apartment ALONE you knew that man had history. If you called that number there was by no means a clear slate for either of you…

You rooted around in your bag from that evening to find the now crumpled strip of paper he had written his number on… You stared at it so long the string of numbers were no longer numbers. If you called it, even if you got scared and backed out he would have YOUR number… “Aw, Screw this Y/N… Live a little!!”

His phone barely rang twice; “Yeah, Danny?” “…Hi…” You almost whispered it, why did that assured confidence in his voice make you feel so timid? Hell, why did he almost sound sexier over the phone?? “…Y/N!” You heard his laugh “…It damn well took you long enough!! What happened!?” “…Well, I had to find it again first…” “As long as you tell me you didn’t have to fish it out of the trash and piece it back together I think I’ll be okay… I’m glad you called.” “You are?” Of course he is dumbass he wanted you to call him yesterday! “Why would I not be…!? Are you okay? You sound kinda quiet…?” He laughed again “Lemmie guess, your boyfriend’s in the next room isn’t he?” It got you, the way he asked if you were okay and actually sounded concerned… but then as if he’d changed his mind shrugged it off with a joke… “No..!!” You stammered it as you tried to sound more assertive and then could feel your cheeks heating up. You had just out sassed this man to his face in his restaurant in front of your friends, but now you couldn’t talk to him over the phone!?! You took a deep breath. He was silent, he let you take the time you needed… Danny Rayburn who the hell are you…!?

You put your head in your free hand; “Look… I’ve never done this before…” “Done what?” The edge to his voice made you think he knew, but he wanted you to voice it. You took another breath and, as you felt yourself get hotter and knew you probably matched the stripes in your dress, were glad this wasn’t a face to face conversation; “Called a guy after a one-night stand…” “…Well, Darlin’, that’s okay… This is new to you. I get it…” He drawled it in that way that let you know he wasn’t from Miami, but that simultaneously sent shivers through more than just your spine. He didn’t, however, make the joke that you expected “…I’m glad you decided to break the habit. And even more glad you decided to do it with me.” He was met with your silence, you had no idea what to say, and that was the truth… He carried on, you knew he could sense that admitting that was uncomfortable for you… “Look, how about we take this slow… We’ll go for a drink this week and talk it over… There’s a great little bar down by the beach not too far from my restaurant. You strike me as a 9-5 gal and… Well, I can leave whenever I want but the earliest, I really like to leave is 6, after a shift, so… How about 6:30… Thursday?” You smiled, he’d just taken all that pressure off you in one fell swoop. You guessed he was used to it, clearly, he was experienced in all areas… You knew that well enough. “That’s perfect. Thursday… It’s a date.” A date!? What the hell were you saying this was insane! He laughed gently in agreement; “Excellent… y/n… a date!”

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* A/N (Post-Posting!): I genuinely used this GIF as the picture... so, I’ve added it here for you! ;) )

#danny rayburn #danny x reader #danny rayburn x reader #bloodline #first fic on here and its Danny?#it's DANNY!#ben mendelsohn #Tagging Ben for the heck of getting it out there #Then HIDING.#Linzi Writes #1 #Liliana #Sway #This is ground zero.#smol bean drabbles

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starryeyedsweetheart · 6 years

Text

What Happened to Us? | Part Four

Author: @starryeyedsweetheart

Pairing: Peter Parker & Reader

Word Count: 3693

Note: so this is the last part of the mini fic thank you everyone who has shown their support and made the experience of writing this so much fun i love you all

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

I hadn’t even gone inside yet and I already hated my life. Before I could even rethink my decision, my mom’s car is nothing but a dot in the distance. Blinking slowly, I wonder if what I’m seeing is actually what Flash’s parties are truly like. I’ve heard rumors of how wild they get, but never in my life did I think I’d witness George Hewitt peeing in one of the shrubs while three of his best friends egg him on with blissful cheers.

Nothing could have stopped me from staying outside the rest of the night and avoiding human interaction. Nothing until I see George Hewitt turn around, his pants still down around his ankles and a red solo cup raised to the sky. I quickly turn away and that’s when I decide to glide towards the front door, hand over my eyes as I pass by the gleeful laughter of him and his friends.

As soon as I’m through the threshold, the pungent, sour smell of alcohol smothers me. Flash was behind a booth, bopping his head and fist pumping to the beat of the song he was playing. The bass of the music shakes the whole house, yet no one seems to care as they bounce around and grind in the large living space. Looking to my right, people were pouring drinks into red solo cups. Others were making out on the counter. Then, through the raunchy bodies of high school teenagers, I see a familiar mess of brown curls and tired eyes eating a piece of toast.

Upon noticing her, I flock towards her. Her brows rise in question as I stick to her side, eyes frantically searching the party and disliking everything I see about it.

“What happened to you don’t like Flash, so you’re not going to the party?” Michelle questions, voice flat, yet there was a hint of teasing.

“What happened to you don’t like people, so you’re not going to the party?” I retort.

A ghost of a smirk flashes over her. Before she could respond, we both see the slight movement of the front door opening, two people sneaking inside. Peter and Ned. And would you look at that? Ned was wearing his new hat. My heart twists at the sight.

“You know, maybe you should try talking to him.” I rip my gaze from the two boys to see Michelle’s somewhat sorrowful expression. This was the first emotion I’ve seen on her that wasn’t disgust or indifference.

“He doesn’t want to talk,” I mutter, surprised she could even hear me above the loud music.

“Then make him listen.”

A body appears on the other side of the kitchen island, causing myself to jump but for Michelle to stay utterly still. Before me was no other than Flash, his smile wide and excited.

“I’m so happy you came!” he cheers.

Michelle rolls her eyes as I mutter a sorry excuse of a reply. As Flash begins to ramble on and on about how great his hair looks because he bought a new hair gel from Macedonia, I look over his shoulder to see Peter. Surprisingly, our eyes meet. His brown eyes, even from here, are blank and emotionless. The only tell I had to see if he felt anything towards me was the way his jaw clenches. Before another second can pass of our shared eye contact, he whips around and storms off deeper into the party, leaving a confused Ned in his wake.

My heart falls as I watch the place where he stood. Michelle, who saw the whole ordeal, subtly nods her head to where Peter went off to before giving me an encouraging smile. Yes. A smile. A whole, teeth showing, lips curling smile. Determination flows through my veins at that and that’s when I nod back to her. Excusing myself, missing the look of disappointment wash over Flash, I’m taking off to follow Peter, going deeper into the party than I ever thought I would.

I shove against sweaty bodies, internally crippling from the inside when I’m pushed against someone and they take it as an invitation to dance with me in their drunken state. A wasted girl from my English class compliments the blue shirt I’m wearing, but it’s not even blue. My feet are being trampled with each beat of the song as people jump up and down like maniacs. By the time I’m through the bustling crowd of my rowdy classmates, I’m met with a sitting area.

There were two couches, a large group of people lounging amongst them. Some were casually sipping at whatever was in their solo cups as others seemed to have already had too much alcohol. To my surprise, Peter was wedged between Ned and Liz Allan, and my heart did another thing where it flipped a million times and then plunged into a pool of despair. Why did seeing him with her hurt more than it should?

Before I could even get his name out, his head shoots up. Our eyes don’t lock this time as he mutters a quick excuse to the people around him and he’s running away from me once again. My eyes feel glassy and I try to contain myself but this was a whole other level of rejection.

“Hey, let’s go somewhere quieter.” Looking up, I see Ned, his mouth turned into a pitiful smile as I allow him to lead me towards an unknown hallway. He opens a door and then, he plops himself down on the cold tiled floor of the bathroom. He pats the space beside him as I slowly slide down the wall with a sigh. “He’s an idiot,” Ned says.

“I know.”

“You know he never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

Ned’s head slowly turns at my lack of a response. He may have been expecting me to constantly repeat those two words with each of his statements, but he doesn’t truly understand how I can’t believe his words when Peter doesn’t act upon them. He screamed at me in his bedroom. He talked about me in the library. He’s avoiding me at this stupid party. It was enough for me to prop my head against the wall behind me and sigh so deeply, it rattled the pain in chest.

“Why does he keep running away from me?” I ask almost inaudibly. A part of me didn’t want to know the answer. I wasn’t sure if I could take more of the anguish swirling within me like a hurricane waiting to destroy.

“Because he’s scared,” he states simply.

“Of what?”

“Of you. I don’t think he can stand to see you hurt by him again.”

My hands restlessly fold in my lap, thumbs spinning around one another as I try to steady my breathing. Thinking of him always made my heart race, but now it beats with a different kind of longing. “I miss him,” I whisper.

“Do you miss him enough?” he inquires. Furrowing my brows, I look at Ned oddly. “Do you miss him enough to stay in this bathroom with me or enough to fight for him?”

I lunge towards Ned, a genuine smile on my face as I hug the life out of him. I forgot how much I love him, and would never want to spend another week without him or his idiot jokes. His own warm arms wrap around me as I sigh into his shoulder. “I really like your hat,” I mumble into his shirt, feeling his body shake with laughter.

“I wore it just for you,” he says.

With a grateful thank you and one last squeeze, I get up from the floor and leave the bathroom. The first place I go to look is the couch area, where Liz Allan remained, but no sign of Peter. I take off through the bustling crowd of teenagers, pushing against them like they’re a part of an obstacle course. As I’m going deeper into the party, I can’t help but feel this massive surge of adrenaline.

I love Peter Parker. I’ve known this since I was eleven years old when we watched the city life from his fire escape. I remember his laugh and how it made my heart dance around, even if I could barely hear it over the car horns and shouting citizens.

I love Peter Parker. I’ve felt it deep within me when we were lying in my bed, staring up at the ceiling of glow in the dark star stickers because the city lights always masked the real ones. I remember the way his hand brushed against mine as we mumbled sleepily to one another about future plans. At first, I could feel my cheeks redden at the touch, but they were set ablaze when his fingers suddenly weave through mine.

I love Peter Parker. Even when he was yelling at me. Even when we were standing less than five feet apart and it felt like a whole ocean, I’ve never loved him more.

The more I run through this house, the more love I have for him. He needs to know that I’m willing to fight for us. As my chest heaves up and down from climbing the massive staircase to the second floor, I suddenly spot Ned’s hat amongst the crowd. Beside him, was no other than Peter.

And as if he felt my stare, just like he always has, his head turns to me. Our eyes meet and for the first time in a week, my heart explodes with pure, genuine joy. But, as he slowly drops his eyes, hand coming up to rub at the tip of his nose, his body is spinning around as he pushes past people.

Before my heart could feel the full effect of his absence, I begin to sprint down the steps, praying to whomever that I won’t tumble down. I’m shoving against the crowd once more, practically dodging the couches as I pass through them. The dance floor was a war zone as I attempt to squeeze past.

Amongst the sea of teenagers, I suddenly can’t breathe. The way their bodies press against mine as I fight my way through causes my breath to hitch in my throat, clogging any possible airway. I think of fighting for Peter, but the adrenaline is gone.

What’s the point? I can’t keep chasing someone who won’t stop running.

Blinking back the tears, I finally emerge from the dance floor, seeing Peter walk through the front door. Despite the constant agony tearing me apart, I fight through it. One chance. I just need one chance to make things right, and afterwards, this feeling will subside. The love I have for him will fade. Time will go on. Things will get better.

But now is not the time. I sprint through the front door, it slamming behind me as I take in the sight of Peter walking down the front lawn. And just like that, the little sanity I have left disappears.

“Stop avoiding me!” I finally find it in myself to scream, voice cracking from the pain brewing within me. His back turns rigid, his muscles tensing and his body stopping in Flash’s front lawn. With the door closed behind me, the bass of the music barely moves us. The smell of alcohol is no longer pungent and time stands still. I could already feel my eyes sting from the tears I’m already holding back. Peter’s back continues to face me. He may only be a couple of feet away, but it feels as if there’s an ocean lying between us when I whisper, “Please stop.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, letting the first of my tears fall. I instantly wipe them away as he keeps ignoring me. My hands shake, but balling them into fists only causes my nails to dig into my palms. I chew on my bottom lip, feeling my chest shake with each passing breath. The pain suddenly hits me like a bus, the adrenaline gone. Sadness sweeps over me as we stand idle, waiting for something unknown.

Is this really how this is going to end? What happened to being at each other’s weddings? What happened to all the idiotic plans we had for when we were 18? What happened to forcing our kids to be best friends so our legacy would live on?

What happened to us?

I press my lips together, heart aching. The tears well up in my eyes and I continue to squeeze them shut to get rid of them. I had to stay strong. I had to push through. “Please,” I plead, not missing the wavering in my voice as I spoke. “Just…just turn around.”

He didn’t. I could clearly see his body breathe heavily, probably from the annoyance and hatred he felt for me because I couldn’t let him go. I couldn’t leave the broken remnants of our friendship as easily as he did because he had time. Peter had time to detach himself from the picture perfect friendship I thought we had. Me? I was thrown into the cold water, drowning beneath it all as he stands on land with a lifejacket.

“Peter, I can’t help how I feel,” I say, even if talking to his back was like talking to a brick wall. “I didn’t want to fall in love with you.”

“So, why did you?” he finally speaks, yet his voice is small, barely audible above the muffled chatter from inside the house. My breath hitches in my throat just like it always does when I hear him talk. I suppress another cry, almost choking on it when he suddenly turns around with his big brown eyes filled with tears of pure sorrow. His cheeks were as puffy as mine. Peter’s bottom lip quivers the same way mine does because I couldn’t keep the despair in anymore. “Why did you have to make saying goodbye harder than it needed to be?” he questions harshly, his voice full of misery.

“I told you, I didn’t mean to fall in love, but I did. And I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, but you did. So, can you just please, give us another chance?”

“I already told you how I feel!” he shouts, but it doesn’t pierce through me like it did the first time he raised his voice in the small space of his bedroom. It didn’t add salt to the wound when he said it again in the library. Instead, it just fires up this undeniable, searing rage within me. I’m so fucking sick and tired of constantly feeling helpless. I’m over being the only one hurting. Whatever it was that Peter wanted to do was fine by me, but I’ll be damned if I let him walk away without trying one last time.

I can’t help but stalk towards him, anger fueling my actions. “So, tell me again!” I yell back. Different emotions swirl within me, my heart not knowing which is to act upon anymore. The determination, hurt, and anger concots into one feeling as I breath heavily.

His face falls for a moment, expecting me to crumble before his eyes once more. Not this time. This time, I’ll stand my ground. I’ll fight for this. I’ll fight for us, even if we’re only friends because not having him as a boyfriend is nothing compared to not having him at all. “Tell me, Peter. I want you to tell me the truth, even if it hurts me. Look me in the eyes,” I say, my voice matching one of a raging storm. Our eyes meet and a shooting pain tears me apart from the inside. “Look at me, and tell me you hate me.”

“I…” he begins. My stomach twists, but our eyes never leave each other’s. “I h-hate…” he says again, his voice strained with anguish. He blinks before mumbling out a jumbled mess of words. I shake my head, a small feeling of hope creeping up on me. “I hate y-you,” he chokes out. “I hate you,” Peter repeats.

“You don’t.”

Peter sniffs before breaking eye contact to look at his feet. He wipes at his face with the back of his hand. His posture looks so beaten down, so different from the tense stature he tried so hard to maintain when his back was to me. Even if his eyes were hidden from a curtain of his wavy curls as he longingly stares at the floor, I could still see his bottom lip shake and the tears stream down. Peter lets out a broken cry, as if he didn’t want it to come out in the first place. Amidst his sorrow, he hiccups the one thing my heart had been yearning to hear. “I don’t,” he confirms. “I don’t hate you.”

“Look,” I say. The fury that had pumped through my bloodstream slowly diminished at the sight of Peter’s weak state, but it still lingers. When we were younger, Peter would always be the strong one, holding my hands and calming me down with his soothing words. The tables have turned. I grab his hands delicately, worried that he’d pull away at any moment. To my surprise, he allows it to happen and even looks up at me with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen. “It’s okay if you don’t want to be friends anymore, but you don’t have to lie to me. I’ll let you go if that’s what you want, if that’s what you need.”

Peter nods solemnly.

“I just have one question though, and you don’t even have to answer it if you don’t want to,” I say, voice strained. “Did you ever love me? At any point in time?”

Looking up from our intertwined hands, I see Peter with a sad smile on his face. Another tear falls from his miserable eyes as he whispers, “I always have.”

Furrowing my eyebrows, I suddenly realize something. Those words sound so familiar, but I was too caught up with what Peter had just said to me. “Why would you...What? Then, why’d you leave?” I question, pure sadness laced into my words.

“Because…” he trails off. His thumbs begin to run over the back of my hand, a thing he always does whenever I feel like I’m falling apart. A thing he always does even when he’s falling apart too. “Because….I loved you too much.”

And that’s when it hit me.

And that’s when I hit Peter in the shoulder as hard as I possibly could.

“You idiot!” I scream, Peter’s eyes widening. His hands go up to deflect my next hit that would never come because I threw my arms into the air out of frustration. “You’re Spiderman?!” I squeak.

Peter instantly lunges forward, his hand covering my mouth. I smack him off. “Get your little webby fingers off me,” I seethe. Before he could defend himself, my shoulders suddenly slump forward and I realize the truth. “You...you didn’t want me to be in your life to protect me, didn’t you?” I question, voice small. He nods and I groan, rubbing my face with my hands. “You’re so stupid. So, so, so, so stupid.”

“For wanting to keep you safe?”

“For using the same words Spiderman said to me on the rooftop. Oh my God, I confided in him. I confided in you!”

“But you’ve always talked to me about your problems,” Peter defends.

I throw my hands up in the air. “But never about you to you!”

All of a sudden, in the messy blur of my stressed home gestures and rambling comments, Peter suddenly grabs me by the arms and tugs me into him. I could feel his breath fan against his face. His nose grazes mine. Peter’s eyes fondly gaze into my own and I can’t help but melt into his touch.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, barely audible above the pounding music behind us. His words were smooth and sincere, face contorting into a painful expression of guilt. “I thought that keeping you out of my life would keep you from getting hurt, but you did anyways. By me. And I never want to see you so broken again.”

“You could have told me. I would have understood.”

“I didn’t want you to understand; I wanted you to find someone who deserves your love and attention.”

I furrow my brows, still wondering how I’m able to function when one small movement of my neck would cause Peter and I to kiss. “You don’t think you’re good enough to be with me?”

He shakes his head, and that’s when I realize that none of my words will ever convince him of how much I love him. Maybe that’s why the night in the his room didn’t work. It was because he didn’t believe the entire truth to my words. Smiling to myself, I quickly lean forward, closing the small distance between us without another second to spare.

I could have lived through so many lifetimes, met so many different people, but none will ever compare to the feeling of my heart bursting with pure ecstacy in my chest. He tugs me closer and I revel in the feeling of his lips pressing against mine in the same passion. I’m the first to pull away, taking notice of the way his eyes were still shut and the way he kept leaning in as if he couldn’t get enough. My amused laugh is what finally got him to flutter his eyes open, his lips turning into an excited smile right after.

“I love you,” he whispers to me. Something about those three words and the way he said it, as if they were only meant to be heard by me, made my heart dance and my smile shine with absolute wonder.

In an excited fit, I lean in once more to bask in the happiness that has washed over us in a warm light. I kiss him. Then, I kiss him again. And again. And again because with Peter Parker, actions speak louder than words.

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