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clericofshadows · 3 months

Text

opportunities

Description: Kaidan Alenko gets stuck in a Citadel elevator with Admiral Steven Hackett, and they come to a few realizations that lead to a better future regarding them and Nyx Shepard.

Pairing: Past Male Shepard/Steven Hackett, Current Kaidan Alenko/Male Shepard. Future Kaidan Alenko/Male Shepard/Steven Hackett

Notes: This is a No Reapers AU (or rather, mostly no Reapers with some remnants). Not terribly important to this fic, but it's how I'm writing Nyx's canon.

Kaidan still wasn't quite used to being called Spectre Alenko about as much as being called Commander Alenko. Two new titles gained post the Battle of the Citadel, and many new responsibilities now his to handle with Captain Nyx Shepard by his side.

The Normandy became a true joint Spectre and Alliance vessel with a new mission after her maiden voyage: root out the remaining remnants of the Reapers and geth under their thrall.

Nearly an impossible quest in such a large galaxy, but Nyx's visions made a few things clear.

It's still hard to imagine how close the protheans were to victory, wiping themselves out in the process of defeating most of the Reapers.

And now it's this cycle’s turn to finally put a stop to it.

Nyx was currently meeting some old friends of his, and Kaidan decided to take part of his leave by visiting the Alliance designated areas to burn off some steam. Sure, he could easily access the Spectre ranges, but he wasn't in the mood for that environment, preferring something closer to home and rich with familiarity.

He sent a quick message to Nyx to let him know where he decided on going, but didn't receive a response. Probably has his notifications on silent, like damn near always when he’s not on duty. The bastard.

Kaidan sent him a few little kisses and hugs as well for him to see whenever he bothered to look at his omnitool and rounded the corner to access the wards’ elevator entrance to get to the nearest rapid transport point.

He entered the elevator and was about to close the doors when someone called out to hold it. He quickly pressed the button to open the doors back up, and to his surprise, it was Admiral Hackett rushing to the elevator, clothed in civilian wear. A green turtleneck, grey dress pants, and oxfords shined to perfection. Damn.

Not the first time he's seen him out of dress blues, but well, Kaidan can't quite deny that the man wears civilian clothing well. Especially an outfit he'd choose for himself.

Kaidan nodded at him once the doors closed, wondering why he was on the Citadel. Here for business? His outfit suggested otherwise.

“Heading over to the Alliance outposts?” Hackett asked. "Or something else entirely?"

Being with Nyx meant that Kaidan had become closer to Hackett. They're friends, and he was easier to approach and talk to than he expected. A quiet understanding between them, both knowing they were the few who knew of Nyx’s secret biotics.

Even with Nyx's complicated feelings, still lingering to this day.

There were times when Kaidan wondered why Nyx chose him, especially after the Battle and when he took it upon himself to introduce the two over drinks. Kaidan didn't fully feel like an outsider, but he could see the history and chemistry between them and felt like Nyx wasn't the only one between them that still carried a torch.

But he and Nyx have never been better. Nyx had opened up more and was freer with his affection, his parents seemed to like him, and well, the sex was great too.

Kaidan nodded. “The Spectre ranges are great, but I prefer something closer to home.”

“Nyx not joining you?” he observed.

“Still out with some friends of his. Think he's using that as a way to get some more information rather than catching up. He invited me, but…” Kaidan trailed off, rubbing his neck. “Not my scene.”

“Though you two were in your honeymoon period,” he chuckled. Kaidan felt his cheeks heat up but didn't exactly argue. “After the Battle, I think he took that as a sign to not be so goddamn hesitant with what he has.”

“Things… have been good,” Kaidan said, hesitating a little. “Still the same stoic bastard, but I get a lot more hugs now,” he laughed, testing the waters. Hackett gave him a knowing look, and he wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

This is the first time he's actually become acquainted with a partner’s ex and wanted to get to know them more beyond passing.

“Ah, always such a clingy bastard. Wouldn’t know it until he lets his walls down,” he said fondly. “I’m happy he finally has someone he can trust. More than just someone who can watch his back.”

“I got the impression he wasn’t used to having a squad with him. And when he told me more about his history, I was surprised he even accepted the Normandy.”

“As was I,” Hackett replied. “I warned Anderson that Nyx would likely refuse, but I ended up owing him credits.”

Kaidan couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. “You know, Nyx has never really told me about how he ended up in the position. Well, at the time, we were still in the awkwardness of finding out he was going to be my superior officer.”

In this moment, there was something about Hackett that was easy to open up and be more relaxed with. Maybe it was the inherent awkwardness of the Citadel elevators, but Kaidan wouldn’t mind if this trip lasted a little longer.

“Nyx has always cared about the rules until it starts to impact him,” Hackett said with a smile. “He chose it mostly out of duty, but I think a part of him missed action despite some of his past. Always wanting to be on the move or–” Hackett cut himself when the elevator’s lights started to flicker and the movement slowed until it stopped between floors with a bit of a creak.

Well, he got his wish.

“Shit,” Kaidan cursed, glancing over at the panel to hunt for an emergency call option. Sure, he could get easy access to the panels and climb his way out, but where they were could make that futile. Best to leave C-Sec to try and get them out.

And it wasn’t like he was Nyx and going to be shooting out the glass as a last resort to dealing with the Reaper threat either.

Before he pressed the emergency call button, Hackett activated his omnitool. “I'll message Nyx, but since he's technically on leave…”

“Everything is silenced,” Kaidan sighed. “I've tried to break him of that, but he won't even–”

“Put an exception in for me,” he and Hackett finished together. They shared a long look before breaking out into a bit of laughter.

“So, the bastard hasn't changed,” Hackett said, shaking his head.

“Too damn set in his ways,” Kaidan replied, hitting the call button. He expected C-Sec to be delayed for a while, still dealing with all the repercussions of the attack.

He went ahead and sent a quick message to Nyx anyway, just in case, but he doubted it would be seen anytime soon.

“Elevator W-AD1, this is Officer T’Seva. We've been getting multiple reports of elevator faults across the wards. May I get your names and status?”

Kaidan cleared his throat. “Spectre Kaidan Alenko and Alliance Admiral Steven Hackett. We’re fine and in no current distress, so please, don’t feel like you have to prioritize us over others. Do you need my credentials?”

“I don’t think that will be necessary, thank you, Spectre. I can connect you to some of my superiors, but there’s not much we can do until we can individually evaluate every elevator.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kaidan said, glancing over at Hackett, who nodded in agreement. “Take your time. Prioritize what you need. We can sit tight.”

“I’ll send that message over. We apologize for any inconvenience this has caused. Ever since the battle,” they trailed off. “You both are likely well aware of everything that’s been going on.”

“We understand,” Hackett spoke up. “We’ll let you know if we run into any issues.”

“Thank you. Again, we apologize for any inconvenience, and we hope we can get to you soon. It appears by your diagnostics there’s something we can fix on site once we arrive. Be careful, and call us if anything changes.”

A part of him wanted to know what exactly was wrong with the elevator, but if he really wanted to find out, he could just hack into the panel and provide external power via his omnitool himself.

Maybe it's better to remain ignorant.

“It’s alright. Thank you,” Kaidan said, and the officer ended the call. With a glanced look over at Hackett, they both signed and sat down on the floor of the elevator, facing each other.

“Did you get a message through to Nyx?” he asked, crossing his arms against his chest.

“It looks like it was sent,” Kaidan replied. “Didn’t bounce back.”

“Good enough. What exactly is he doing, by the way?”

“Catching up with some old friends of his. They were going to bar crawl, and I wasn’t interested.”

“Not your scene?”

“Something like that.” Kaidan tapped the back of his neck. “L2. I don’t do well with bright lights and loud noises.”

Hackett winced in sympathy. “Right. You’ve done well despite–or should I say in spite of–that implant.”

“It’s merely a tool I've learned how to shape and use to my advantage. Got a few dents and scratches, but who doesn’t?”

“You’ve got that right.” Hackett glanced around. “Are there–?” He made a motion with his hand, gesturing around.

Kaidan did a quick scan with his omnitool and nodded. “Won’t take me but a second to throw up a privacy field.”

“They know there’s a Spectre and an Alliance in here, I doubt it’ll raise too much suspicion.”

“I don’t know,” Kaidan couldn’t help but grin. “The wrong officer sees it and starts spinning all kinds of tales.”

“One superior officer is not enough for you?” He teased back, and Kaidan laughed as he activated the privacy field, scrambling the camera feed and muting the audio.

He was a bit surprised Hackett played along.

“Maybe not. The perks are just so good,” Kaidan said, focusing his gaze on Hackett, a smirk tugging at his lips. “The benefits alone make it worth it.”

And he couldn't deny that Hackett was quite the handsome man. The same things that drew him to Nyx drew him to Hackett. Scars, voices, the way they held themselves… and he knew damn well his tastes often went to older men in his fantasies.

Hackett crossed his arms against his chest, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t expect this from you.”

“I don’t see you complaining,” Kaidan said, keeping his tone neutral. “Allow me to be serious for a moment?”

“Thought you already were,” he challenged.

Kaidan nodded, leaning back against the elevator wall. “Part of me was. Nyx never stopped having feelings for you, you know.”

“Trust me, I’m well aware,” he said quietly. “And what does that have to do with–”

“It has everything to do with this. Because you obviously still care for him a lot,” Kaidan said, softening his expression. “At first, I felt like I was competing for something that I would never live up to, but later, I felt like Nyx simply had too much love in his heart for one person. I know he loves me, I feel it and we’ve been great, but–” Kaidan stood up and sat down next to Hackett, watching as he followed his every move with his gaze. “I wonder if he’ll be happier if he has us both.”

“So, you’re testing the waters with me, seeing if what, this could be more than us sharing him?”

“Even if it doesn’t work between us, that doesn’t mean this won’t work,” Kaidan replied. “All I see is an opportunity to get what we all want. Nyx, and something more.”

Hackett snorted but something lingered in his expression. “You're a good man, Kaidan. Sorry you got dragged into our decades long mess.”

“I’m not,” Kaidan moved closer. “I think we should all have a long talk once we get out of this mess and after we chew Nyx out for keeping us on mute, yes?”

“I think we should too.” He smiled, and Kaidan believed it to be genuine, tugging on his scar and pulling it across his face quite handsomely. “I’ve… denied my own feelings for him for years, wanting him to move on. But I think we were doomed from the goddamn start.” He shook his head. “As saving each other's lives changes your mindset quite a bit.”

“I'm familiar.” Kaidan closed his eyes, and he flashed back to Virmire, activating the bomb and Nyx refusing to choose between him and Ash, nearly jeopardizing the mission and losing some of the Normandy’s marine detail in the process. He flashed back to the beacon, to Nyx’s anguished cry to move out of the way when the debris of the ship and of the tower threatened to crush him and Ash.

Kaidan felt like he hadn't had the chance to really return the favor.

“And you’ve been impacted by that as well, I see.” Hackett said, giving him a knowing look.

Kaidan blinked before nodding. “A few times.”

“He's a devoted man to the people he loves.”

“That he is,” Kaidan breathed out. He turned to look over at Hackett, his eyes glancing down at the man’s lips. “I would kiss you right now, but I don’t want to do this without Nyx.”

He let out a surprised laugh. “We are of the same damn mind, Alenko.”

“Call me Kaidan.”

“Then you call me Steven.” His eyes flicked down to Kaidan’s lips. “To think we all have similar scars.”

Damn, he was right. They all had something on their lips. Kaidan's was the least severe out of the three, though.

“Where did you get yours?” He asked.

Kaidan felt no need to hide it, figuring Steven already knew. “BAaT. When Vyrnmus attacked me after I lashed out.”

He nodded. “First Contact War for me.” Kaidan could've guessed, and he didn't elaborate.

“And Nyx as well,” Kaidan said. “He's been more open about that than I expected. About a lot of things.”

“Such as his exposure,” he said pointedly, and Kaidan shrugged. “I knew you were something special when he told me how he reacted during his little game that damn near backfired on him.”

“Nyx is a goddamn idiot,” Kaidan chuckled. “But I still liked him despite that. When we got together, that first night, he said he saw a man he could trust.” Kaidan glanced over at Steven, who nodded and motioned for him to keep going.

“And he wanted something specific out of me, so I was extra observant to make sure he was still enjoying himself, you know? I've been with a few biotics, not many, and there's a common theme: we let loose in pleasure. It's hard to avoid, even for someone like me. I saw blue rimmed eyes that night, and I told myself it was a trick of the light. I never told him that I noticed, and he never said anything to me about it. Maybe he didn't even notice he did it,” Kaidan finished his little tale with a sigh. “Didn't have any of the telltale signs of a current gen, so I just tucked it away in the back of my mind. Even after he told me the truth, I didn't dwell on it.”

“I've tried my best to keep him protected from his anomaly, and I appreciate your discretion. I've always worried with his… proclivities that something would come out. Never did,” Hackett admitted. “Granted, he has an experimental implant and amp to help with that, but I'm a protective bastard, he would say.”

“Nothing wrong with that. I like that in a person,” Kaidan said. “I should tell him, but at this point, I don't want him to worry.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” he replied with a wry smile.

“Thanks.” Kaidan adjusted his position, pulling a leg up.

“I'm tempted to call them back so we can get out of here sooner,” Hackett muttered.

“You and me both, but no need to waste resources on us just because of who we are.”

“Exactly. Doesn't mean that I'm starting to be a little selfish.”

Kaidan laughed. “Ah well. We can deal with that later.”

“Speaking of, have you ever done something like this before?” Hackett asked, changing the subject.

Omega shore leave. Vorcha mafia, 5000 credits, a bottle of whiskey, and two very handsome men.

Kaidan grinned. “Sort of. Had a run in with the vorcha mafia at an ill-advised trip to one of Omega’s casinos. Later I ended up doing well and securing myself a nice sum of credits and an expensive whiskey, but I angered the wrong people in the process.”

He laughed as Steven raised an eyebrow. “You contain many secrets, Kaidan.”

“I contain multitudes,” he laughed. “I guess I’m good at hiding it. Anyway, turns out one of the vorcha I pissed off was a target for a merc, and I got involved with him and his partner in ah… more ways than one. Temporary, but I've never forgotten them.” Memories played out, surely reflected on his face, a smile that was tinged with a hint of sadness. He had their info, but lost it with a bug in his software and hadn't backed it up in time and never tried seeking them out since.

“Looks like they got away from you,” he said softly. “I'm sorry.”

“A part of me was too, but I ended up with something beautiful in the end, so I can't complain,” he shrugged. “I owe it to them for helping me appreciate my biotics a little more. Hadn't been with another L2 before, especially not one that wasn’t at Jump Zero, and well, the merc understood how to be with a biotic.”

“An L2 that wasn't with BAaT?”

“Turns out that after he got the surgery, his asari uncle trained him and later fitted him with an asari amp. Fought like a commando too. Never seen anything like it. Regis was one of a kind for sure.”

“Regis… Shepard?” Steven asked.

How the hell does he know about him?

Kaidan tilted his head to the side, furrowing his eyebrows. “Yeah. Why?”

“Son of Hannah Shepard, another Admiral in the brass. She never was happy that he didn't join the Alliance, but he's a good contact for us about Terminus affairs,” he explained. “Which means the other merc was Zaeed Massani, and that makes this one small goddamn galaxy.”

Kaidan's face broke out into an incredulous expression. “You're shitting me.”

“No, I'm not.” Steven smirked. “Zaeed was Alliance, but for only a bit. Had a short fling with him before he left and before I knew Nyx.”

Kaidan couldn't help but laugh. “So, not only do we share history with one partner, but also have another. Holy shit.”

Steven snorted. “Maybe we're more compatible than we think. To good taste in men.”

“I'll drink to that.” Kaidan looked down at his lap. “Small galaxy indeed,” he echoed.

A silence fell over them, comfortable and warm.

A ping from Kaidan’s omnitool interrupted it. He glanced down, knowing he only had a handful of contacts that he gave notification access to.

NS: You’re stuck in a fucking elevator? With Steven? I’m on my way

“I stand corrected, he did get our message,” Kaidan said, showing the display to him.

“Call him.”

Kaidan put a vid call through, and Nyx answered nearly immediately, on the move. They shared a look.

“No shit, you really are trapped. Apparently it’s been happening all over this sector.”

“Hello to you too, love,” Kaidan rolled his eyes. “But we haven’t been in here that long and–”

“Too late. I’m on my way. Already notified C-Sec to start to get you guys out. You’re too much of a damn gentleman, Kaidan.”

“He’s not the only one who told them to hold off,” Steven interjected. “In case there were actual emergencies more important than our comfort.”

“Oh great, not you too! Selfless bastards. Let me guess, are you two besties now?”

Something like that. They shared a look again, and it didn’t escape Nyx’s notice. He stopped in his tracks and narrowed his eyes. “What happened between you two?”

“Nothing bad, but… we all need to sit down and talk about it,” Kaidan replied.

“Or you can tell me now, since you both seem comfy enough in there.” He cocked his head to the side, not sounding annoyed or angry, just curious.

“Kaidan and I have a proposition for you,” Steven began. “About your relationship. About what could be something between the three of us. Which is why this is far better with us in one room instead of a vid call.”

“Oh!” He widened his eyes. “Fuck, uh… okay. Wow. You really think this could work even after all these years?”

“Only one way to find out. Kaidan proposed it because… quite frankly, Nyx, you aren’t the only one that misses what we had,” Steven said softly. Kaidan reached over to squeeze his hand, and to his delight, he took it and held on tightly.

Nyx closed his eyes, breathed out, and opened them a moment later. “Alright. We can talk. Kaidan, you asked for this? Even though…” he trailed off, looking unsure.

“Nyx, I love you, and I want you to be happy. And I can't deny that I can see something working between all of us. But even if Steven and I find that we don’t work, that doesn't mean we can’t still have this between you two and between you and me..” Kaidan punctuated his statement by gesturing between them. “And well, you know what I like.” He grinned.

“Shit, Kay, I love you too, you know that. And, yes, I know what you like. Hell, a part of me has selfishly thought about this too, though in ah… more compromising positions than this.” Nyx smiled.

“Never change, Nyx,” Steven said, starting to lean against Kaidan.

“Don’t plan on it. I’m on my way. Oh and feel free to, well, spend your time however you like until we get there.” He winked and shut off the call.

A message popped up a moment later, addressed to the both of them.

NS: C-Sec told me they’ll be there in fifteen. That gives you at least ten ;)

Cheeky bastard.

Steven let out a breathy laugh. “Obviously, we need to talk about this far more than that, but… what do you think?”

Kaidna smiled, leaning in closer. “I think it went well. He gave us a ringing endorsement, so why not spend those–” he glanced down at his omnitool– “next few minutes getting to know each other a little bit more.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

Steven made the first move, closing the distance between them, first with a soft, chaste kiss, testing the waters. Kaidan chased after him when he broke away, deepening the kiss and climbing into his lap. He made a surprised sound when Kaidan settled on top of him, pulling him in closer and tangling a hand into his hair. Fuck, he was good at this, Kaidan biting back a moan as Steven started to explore his mouth.

“Don’t tell me you like to be quiet,” Steven said, breathing against his lips.

Kaidan chuckled, moving to kiss down his neck, pushing away his turtleneck. “Didn’t want you to think I was easy. No, I like it loud…” he nipped a kiss just underneath where the collar of the turtleneck sat. “I like it rough…” he licked a stripe up to his ear to purr into and nip at the lobe. “I love it public, even.”

To his surprise, Steven only laughed, keeping a hand tangled in his hair. “Good. I think you and I will be just fine together.”

For a brief moment Kaidan wondered exactly how similar they were and if that factored into Nyx choosing him and staying with him.

“Yeah? I look forward to finding out more,” Kaidan said, leaning in to kiss him once more, but the elevator shifted and the panel started to ring. Right.

Kaidan lifted himself off of him and watched Hackett adjust his pants before he got up out of the corner of his eye. He cleared his throat and accepted the call. “Hello?”

“Hey Spectre. It’s Bailey. We’re getting you two out thanks to your fellow Spectre. Mechanical failure and software failure, nasty business. You’ll be moving again before you know it.”

“Thanks,” Kaidan replied. “Let us know if you need us for anything.” He hoped he didn't sound out of breath.

“We have it covered. Just sit tight for a little longer.”

The call hung up and they both let out a sigh of relief. Kaidan leaned against the back wall of the elevator. “Almost got too carried away.”

“You clearly aren't sorry about that.”

“You're right. I'm not.”

The elevator’s lights flickered and suddenly it started to move. A few moments later, it stopped on its original destination, and on the other side, Nyx was waiting for them, along with some C-Sec personnel.

“Good, you two didn't kill each other,” Nyx laughed, leaning in to kiss Kaidan's cheek as he walked out. “Are you still planning on going over to the ranges or…?” He looked expectant.

“I think I just want to relax for a while. Let's go back to the apartment,” Kaidan said, taking his boyfriend's hand. “Might make some good food, if you want to join us, Admiral.”

“Lead the way,” he replied, and they headed over to the nearest transport hub.

– –

The moment they were inside their apartment, they all immediately headed over to the large couch Nyx insisted on buying for them. Now, Kaidan was thankful to have it, all three of them able to sit comfortably after taking off their shoes.

Nyx sat in the middle, his hands in his lap. “First, I have to ask: Were you two making out when they called y’all back?”

Kaidan sighed in exasperation as Steven snorted. “What do you think is the answer to that, Nyx?” Steven asked, nudging him on the shoulder.

“A damn shame you two threw up that privacy field, is what I’m going to say to that. I guess… you both found out you two are a helluva lot more similar than you both realized,” he admitted, not meeting either one of their eyes.

“Hey, look at me,” Kaidan said, gently turning Nyx’s face towards him. “I’m not mad that you clearly have a type. I mean, I do too.” He laughed, trying to break up the tension. It seemed to work by the way Nyx’s shoulders relaxed. “It just means that we may end up being more compatible than we realized.”

“Or maybe not,” Steven replied, though not out of any malice. He kept his tone light as he continued, “but we won’t know unless we try. And we can still both love you, Nyx, even if we don’t end up feeling that way for each other.”

Nyx closed his eyes, leaning back into the couch, letting out a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re both right, as loathe am I to admit it. I want both of you. Ever since I met you, Kaidan, and you took care of me that night the way I needed, God… you became special to me in a way I haven’t felt in many years.” Kaidan squeezed his hand. “And Steven, you were the one I let get away and I’m sorry.”

“Maybe you were,” Steven began, and Kaidan saw him reach out for Nyx’s other hand. “But that distance may have been good for us. Don’t apologize for something that ended up being good for us in the end.”

“Time will tell on that,” Nyx said, looking at both of them. “I know Kaidan has had his own experiences with poly relationships, but have you…?”

Steven shook his head. “You know I’ve never been one for dalliances the way you were. No, this is new territory for me too. Kaidan told me a bit about his time.”

“Oh, he did?” Nyx smiled, taking a second to pull his hair out of his long ponytail, letting the silvery strands fall down and lay on his shoulders. “Sounds like you two got real acquainted.”

“We did,” Kaidan said with a purr. “We need to go out sometime as the two of us, to get there even more.”

“Kaidan, if you keep up that voice, we’re going to go a lot farther on this damn couch than just a conversation,” Nyx warned, shaking his head. Kaidan pecked his cheek, glancing at Steven who watched in interest.

“We do need to go out as couples a few times. I’ll be on the Citadel for a while longer, so I want to take you both out separately. See where this goes… get to know the man that claimed your heart,” Steven said, his own voice falling into a husky purr.

Nyx held his head in his hands. “Fucking hell there’s two of you now.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Kaidan leaned in to whisper into his ear, watching him shudder. “I want to hear all about those fantasies. What positions we were in, what you were doing.”

“What we were doing,” Steven continued from the other side.

Nyx took another deep breath. “Yeah. One day. I’ll do whatever you two want. But now? I’m hungry and that bar food wasn’t enough for me and my metabolism.”

“Lucky for you, you have a biotic boyfriend who understands. I’ll make my Mom’s chicken noodle soup. Good, hearty, and my way of sharing the love,” Kaidan said, getting up from the couch.

“Nyx raves about your cooking, but I think he misses being behind a real grill,” Steven said, stretching himself out on the couch. Nyx nodded at the mention, Kaidan familiar with how much his man loves to grill, even impressing his father when they were prepping for dinner. “I’m a bit of a chef myself.”

“Oh, really?” Kaidan asked, making his way over to the small kitchen, starting by washing his hands. “We’ll need to compare notes. Most of my recipes are modified for our increased caloric intake, but I make Mom’s soup as authentic as I can.”

“I still keep my modified notes from when we found out about his exposure. I’ll take you up on that offer,” he said. Kaidan felt something in him soften at that.

Kaidan started to gather the ingredients, laying them all out on the table before he started putting the basic stock together. He grabbed his favorite stock pot and put it on heat, tossing a few tablespoons of butter in. To his surprise, Steven got up to join him. “Need some help dicing and slicing?”

“Could always use an extra hand,” Kaidan said with a nod. “Dice those carrots, celery, and onions for me.” He grabbed a few cloves of garlic and started to mince them, motioning over to a nearby cabinet that had a spare cutting board.

Steven nodded and got to work. “Am I going to get the recipe after this?”

“You’ll have to meet my parents first,” Kaidan replied with a wink, smiling while Nyx laughed as he got up to join them, leaning against the edge of the island.

“Already making plans to introduce him to the Alenkos…” Nyx said with a teasing lilt to his voice. “How long did it take for you to take me over to them?”

“Remember, we were on the Normandy for how long?” Kaidan chuckled. “And they ended up loving you, so you had nothing to worry about.”

Steven looked only a little hesitant, slowing down his dicing before recovering.

“Don’t worry. My parents… have a lot of love to give. They’ll approve,” Kaidan said, but a part of him knew that his father was worried enough about the rank difference between him and Nyx. Not that it really mattered with both of their Spectre statuses, but introducing Steven into the mix is going to make things… interesting.

Better see how this goes before he mentions it to his parents.

“Sounds like Nyx’s family,” Steven said, scraping the vegetables into the pot at Kaidan’s nod. “You’re Earthborn too, right?”

Kaidan nodded. “Around Vancouver. My family has a beautiful orchard we call home.”

He waited for him to elaborate on his own origins but he didn’t. Nyx didn’t offer anything either, so Kaidan wasn’t going to pry just yet. He started to stir the vegetables, adding the garlic after a couple of minutes passed. “Chicken’s in the fridge, if one of you could grab that for me. I’ll let it cook in the stock and with my Mom’s seasoning mix, and in less than an hour, we’ll have our soup.”

Nyx nodded and grabbed the requested ingredient. Kaidan tossed in some of the seasoning mix, careful to not let Steven see too much of the process, just to be a little shit. He eyeballed the amount of chicken stock he needed and grabbed the wrapped chicken thighs, placing them in the stock after bringing it to a boil. He reduced the heat to a simmer and covered the stock and chicken and set a timer on omnitool to check it later to make sure everything had cooked through. “Alright, out of my kitchen,” Kaidan said, washing his hands again. “Won’t be done for a while, so let’s find something to watch while we wait, hmm?”

Nyx, of course, found a pre-eezo discovery sci-fi film to watch, enjoying his tradition of grading old-Earth sci-fi to see how accurate they were. Kaidan found it endearing and adorable, the way he kept a meticulous spreadsheet of his personal ratings and opinions.

Nyx grabbed the knit blanket they kept folded over the back of the couch and unfolded it over them.

Kaidan settled against Steven, never quite resisting a good cuddle, and relaxed as the movie began. He could get used to this so easily, he realized. The intimacy of making food together, working in a kitchen and knowing where the other was at any time.

Steven wrapped an arm around Kaidan and pulled him in closer as he leaned in to peck Nyx on the lips, soft and sweet, a contrast to what Kaidan and Steven got up to in the damn elevator. Nyx let out a surprised sound and with a chuckle, he pulled him in closer, deepening the kiss. Kaidan watched them with a soft smile on his face, seeing how the former ex-lovers relaxed into each other, a familiarity and ease that quickly overcame any awkwardness they initially had.

“I missed this,” Nyx admitted quietly, just loud enough for the both of them to hear, breaking apart from the kiss with a sigh.

“Me too,” Steven replied, vulnerable and open and soft.

Kaidan saw their years apart melt away.

“And now I want to see what I missed,” Nyx teased, motioning towards him and Steven. “If you two want, of course.”

“I think we can manage,” Steven said, his piercing eyes landing on Kaidan. First, Kaidan had to deal with Nyx’s gene modded purples, and now he’s dealing with Steven’s icy blue.

Kaidan answered by leaning in for a kiss, pressing his lips softly against Steven’s, letting out a pleased sigh as he parted his lips, letting him take the lead. He heard Nyx make a happy noise from beside them, clearly enjoying the show. They kept it relatively chaste, merely enjoying making out like teenagers on the couch, but it was new territory for them.

They’ll have plenty of time to explore later.

When they broke apart, Steven asked, face a little flushed, “So, Kaidan, what do you like to go out and eat.”

And all Kaidan could do was laugh and give him a smile.

This could work, according to the stirring in his heart and the pleasant heat throughout his body. Someone who understands Nyx and his past and his secrets. Someone who’s been through it all.

Someone who also knows Kaidan’s secrets.

He had to admit to himself that it was nice not having BAaT hanging over him, already knowing that Hackett knew part of the story because of his file. One day, he’ll give him the full story, and maybe he’ll hear some more stories of their past. Of the war they both fought in and survived. For now, though, Kaidan was content waiting for his meal to be done and relaxing with what could be the best opportunity he’s had since the Normandy posting.

#mass effect #kaidan alenko #mshenko #male shepard #steven hackett #nyx shepard #cleric's writing #now I need a ship name for this triad

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hchollym · 1 year

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Hi, I saw your recent post and from one Percy enjoyer to the other, I recommend:

A Study of Resonance by mymovingfingerwrites on ao3 (rated M) (warning for graphic depictions of violence)—— in which Percy travels back in time and tries to defeat the dark lord.

This story expands so much on the magical elements from the books, it’s amazing. And Percy is such a nerd for magic. Though, this Percy is very much morally gray and makes some questionable decisions, he is still compelling and makes you still root for him. He grows as a person over this 500k+ (!) word fanfic and is just so human, i weep.

I hope you enjoy this story as much as I do if you haven’t read it already. Anyways, what are your favorite Percy-Weasley centric fics overall?

In response to this post.

I'm sorry that this took me so long to respond to! 😓

I've had several people recommend that fic to me! I started reading it a while ago, but I stopped (because of things going on in my personal life), so I'll have to go back to it! 🙂

To preface this, I love AUs (especially more obscure ones); I just find them really fun and enjoyable. So be warned that a lot of my favorite Percy stories are not necessarily realistic or in-character!

Also, please make sure you look at the warnings/tags if you are going to read any of these stories!

I'm sure there's more, but some of my other favorites are:

Treat You by BoiJustLetMeBe (Percy & Charlie, Rated G) --- An adorable story where Charlie takes Percy on a fake date to show him how his future boyfriend should treat him.

At least he has great abs by Irisen (Percy x Oliver, Rated T) --- Muggle AU where Percy finds out from the internet that Oliver (a famous athlete) is his soulmate. It's got a lot of the text and social media format instead of a traditional story format, but it's pretty funny!

Sexetera, Ad infinitum by nqdonne (Percy x Everyone, Percy x Harry, Rated E) --- Percy gets stuck in a groundhog day situation and decides to spend his time sleeping with basically everyone. There's some plot and fluff at the end though.

tears like shooting stars by starsailing (Percy x Oliver, Rated T) --- A very sweet, mermaid Percy AU where Oliver meets Percy when he almost drowns in the Black Lake.

Put Your Arms Around Me (And I'm Home) by MoonytheMarauder1 (Percy x Oliver, Rated T) --- Muggle AU where Percy is blind, Oliver becomes his roommate, and there's some great interactions between Percy & the Weasleys.

A Journey Home by edelweissmar (Percy x Oliver, Rated T) --- A Post-canon story where Oliver became disabled in the final battle. The author's summary explains it well: "Or, in which Oliver performs illegal magic on his broom and Percy, instead of having him arrested, falls in love"

Price of Wisdom by james, MadPoetess (Percy x Multiple, Rated M) --- Percy works at a sex club, has to stand up to Lucius Malfoy to protect Ron, and has some awesome interactions with all the Weasleys.

A Matter of Perspective (Through the Veil) by flowergrown (Gen, Rated T) --- Percy can see ghosts. The story includes Regulus & Ariana, as well as Percy's friendships with Oliver, Marcus, and Penelope.

So Sane It's Driving Me Crazy by tryslora (Percy x Marcus, Rated E) --- Percy is spending Christmas Eve alone for the first time, but he runs into Marcus, which leads to some lovely interactions and steamy sex.

Thanks for the ask! 😊

#ask me #anon ask #percy weasley #fic recs #percy weasley defense squad #fanfics #percy x oliver #perciver #percy x marcus #flintley #AU #percy & charlie #percy & the weasleys #hp #my thoughts #my opinion

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navigatorsghost · 7 months

Text

[Source: this post.]

OMG sorry @ladytyburn XDDD but okay, thank you so much for asking about my AU! <3 I decided to make this a separate post rather than drop lore in your notes because apparently I had a lot to say once I got started?

(Soulmark AU infodump below the cut!)

Okay, so, Soulmark AU starts from the basic premise that for chakra users specifically (and only chakra users), fate matches you with a soulmate. Every shinobi, samurai, etc is either born with a soulmark or expects to develop one as they grow up, depending on whether they or their soulmate happen to be born first. The mark consists of one or more black kanji, like a tattoo, on the inside of the wrist of the dominant hand; the specific kanji you have will relate to some fundamental quality or trait of your soulmate, but their symbolism is often super cryptic and obscure until you actually meet the other person and go "oh, I get it!"

Speaking of which, when you meet each other, you'll know, and the thing you're meant to do at that point is to grip each other's forearms so your wrist marks touch. On doing this, you will both experience a neurochemical response that biologically calibrates you to your soulmate and dumps a ton of bonding hormones and so on into your bloodstream. Newly bonded soulmates will, if left to their own devices, collapse into a heap of fluff for several days and then emerge shiny-eyed and ready to take on the world together. Culturally, soulmates are recognised as Very Meaningful and bonds are generally respected, but there can definitely be cases where an awkward or inappropriate bond causes drama, outrage, or political disasters (which is where the fun starts, of course).

Random facts of possible interest:

Soulmate bonds often develop into sexual connections just because of the sheer biochemical intensity involved, but it's completely possible to be celibate or platonic soulmates (because of the whole "fated compatible match" thing, if one partner isn't interested in sex for some reason, the other generally won't be either.) Sometimes siblings can even be soulmates, which due to them being raised together tends to naturally create a very different dynamic to the one you get between soulmates who meet as adults. As a rule, the younger you are when you meet your soulmate, the more smoothly the bonding process will go (especially if you haven't gone through puberty yet) and the less emotional upheaval will accompany it.

Soulmarks are connected to some unique anatomical features: there's a small gland in the wrist directly under the mark, which secretes bonding hormones, plus a few other associated glands and things and the bit of the brain that controls them. This means that while soulmate bonds are both spiritual and physical, it's possible to destroy the physical side of a bond by surgically removing someone's mark and glands. This is severely culturally frowned upon, but is practised by some black-ops type organisations, including Root. If it's done before you meet your soulmate you will never be able to bond with them normally in this lifetime even if you still recognise each other, making this genuinely one of the worst things you can possibly do to someone. Losing your mark to accident or injury will, of course, also impact your ability to bond with your soulmate...

The soulmark appears on the dominant hand, so in order for the matching wrist grip thing to work, it is Just How Things Are that your soulmate will always have the same dominant hand as you. This has the side effect that if you're naturally true fifty-fifty ambidextrous, you may have two soulmates, which is very rare but not unheard of. Some people in that situation just get another ambidextrous person as their soulmate though.

If your soulmate dies, your soulmark will fade to a dull red. If you were already bonded to them you will suffer extreme grief and physical withdrawal symptoms; these are survivable, but not everyone chooses to live on without their soulmate. If you hadn't met them yet you will experience only an echo of the physical loss, but intense grief is nonetheless a normal and accepted reaction.

It's pretty universally believed that soulmates are a For All Time thing, so following a soulmate bereavement, finding each other again in your next lives is commonly hoped for and expected. However, sometimes, a red soulmark may return to black, meaning your soulmate has either been reincarnated early, or physically returned from death in some fashion. This is mostly just a popular romantic fiction trope, but does sometimes happen in real life too, especially if you lost your soulmate very young (or live an unusually long life).

As for what all this has to do with Naruto and Gaara, to come back to the original point; I don't want to spoiler too much because they're meant to be the next chapter in my ficlet collection, but yes, they are soulmates, mostly because I love how loyal they are to each other in canon and how much they understand each other in ways nobody else does or really even can.

Random fact: Gaara's forehead kanji is actually a copy of his soulmark in this AU! He and Naruto meet at the start of the Chūnin Exams as per canon but things go, uh, very differently, which is obviously going to have a knock-on effect across the plot of the series in general though I haven't worked all that out yet. Because they're both jinchūriki, their bond is going to get complicated for sure (please picture Gaara and Naruto hugging each other ferociously while Shukaku and Kurama glare at each other and facepaw in the bijū-dimension) but I fully intend for them to get a lifelong happy ending, and your comic just made me think of how they'd be with each other in that AU so I tagged it for personal inspiration. Thank you for the lovely art and indeed thank you also for chasing me about this!

BTW if you want to read what I've actually written for this AU, the ficlet collection is here. Pairs I've written so far are Hidan/Jashin and Hidan/Deidara (the ambidexterity rule applies for Hidan!), Sasori/Third Kazekage (my favourite tragic OTP for Narutoverse) and Kakuzu/Shikamaru, which is my best friend's fault and the direct result of a fic they haven't posted yet because I'm still betaing it >_>. I'm still working out what a lot of the soulmate pairings in this universe ought to be though, so this fic will update very irregularly.

Thank you again for taking an interest and if you want to ask me more about any of this, please do, I love to ramble about my AUs!

#Rath writing #Rath replies #Soulmark AU #ladytyburn #thank you!#Naruto #Gaara

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bluegekk0 · 5 months

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I figure it's about time I ask.

But first, a slight bit of context

In my AU, when Wyre was younger he was a cocky little asshole until he tried to fight Grimm. He kept getting up (despite being on the brink of death) and Grimm just stopped fighting him. He became a mentor to the vessel. Wyre was still a bit fearful of Grimm (he still couldn't take Grimm down). Basically any time Wyre saw Grimm after that, he'd instinctively bow (despite being told not to on multiple accounts) That's it in a very condensed nutshell

The question is: What would be (your AU) Grimm's response to Wyre instinctively bowing when he saw him.

I hope that's not too much for such a simple ask

I also had planned to post this on @/hollowed-city but I don't quite like the way it looks. I still wanted you to see it tho

Despite knowing this isn't the pk of his au, he still can't help but be angry.

I hope I'm not being annoying

don't worry, you're not being annoying at all! i like these kinds of questions, it's always fun to speculate how a meeting like this would go

as for grimm, i don't think he would mind initially. he's used to it, people bow to him all the time, whether it is simply out of respect or out of fear. he also does it fairly often, usually in front of an audience whenever he acts in one of the troupe's performances

he has a bit of an ego so i would even go as far as to say that he would enjoy it, especially if it's driven by fear. he's polite, sure, but he also takes much delight in others perceiving him as intimidating

(maybe, since the nightmare essence is rooted in fear, it actually has a some kind of effect on him. like he's passively draining someone's energy if they're terrified, it wouldn't be much, i guess it'd be more like a little snack. it's an interesting idea to consider, and would give a bit more reasoning for why he enjoys intimidating others so much. though i also dig the idea of him doing it simply because he finds it amusing. i like him being an asshole to strangers, it contrasts very nicely with his soft and approachable self when he's with his family. but i'm drifting away from the topic so i'll stop here)

i don't think he'd tell them to stop unless they were getting in his way. he doesn't have a lot of patience for strangers, and since your character is from another universe, he wouldn't feel the same fondness he'd feel for a vessel in his world (on the sole basis that they're fpk's children). so if he found wyre's antics irritating, it's possible he would react with anger and tell them to get out of his sight. but i don't think it would get to that point

#ask stuff

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miekasa · 3 years

Text

fluff alphabet: levi ackerman

↯ pairing: levi ackerman x (fem) reader

↯ genres and warnings: modern au, fluff…. obviously, no real warnings i don’t think, oh spoilers for his ova?

↯ word count: 3k lol don’t ask me how

↯ notes: i was going to take requests for this for valentine’s day, but i figured i’d just do them all in one post lolol. i feel like i haven’t posted for levi in a while, so here we go

Activities — What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

If you ask Levi to do something, there’s a good chance he’ll try it at least once for you. Unless it’s something he’s said he explicitly dislikes or doesn’t want to partake in, he’d gladly try it out with you.

He strikes me as the kind of person to like trying new restaurants. Not necessarily the trendy or popular or exclusive ones; but local places with good recommendations or reviews.

Down for late night drives, but you have to be the one driving. He’ll drive if you become too tired, but he prefers to sit in the passenger seat and just let you take him wherever. He doesn’t mind, and it’s a sign he trusts you.

I also think museum dates would be some thing he enjoys. Not history museums—I feel like the concept of stolen artifacts on display would piss him off more than anything lol—but art museums. That’s not to say he’s extremely into art, but I think something about a museum environment is somewhat calming to him. He doesn’t mind.

One more activity I would say suits him is watching movies or shows together. Levi’s the kind of guy that catches you watching a series and expresses how it looks stupid or boring at first, but still hovers around and backseat watches it anyway. After a while, he just gives up and starts actively watching it with you and becomes invested. He just won’t admit it.

Beauty — What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

In the least cheesy way possible, everything. Levi sees people, and his s/o in particular, as a whole person, rather than the sum of their parts. He understands that everything about you—physical, emotional, or otherwise—contributes to the person he loves. There’s something to appreciate about all of it at different times.

He’d probably admire and/or find little habits you have beautiful in some way or another. Probably things you might not even notice about yourself unless he pointed them out to you.

Personality wise, he’d admire it if his s/o were blunt and/or the kind of person to stick up for themselves or their friends. A little bit assertive; not going out of your way to make other people feel small or be rude, but simply refusing to shrink to make room for others.

Physically, again, I don’t think he has a preference for most anything, but if I had to pick, I’d say he’s a thigh/ass guy.

Comfort — How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack, etc.?

Levi is observant, so he would be able to tell when you’re struggling perhaps before you’re ready to realize it yourself, and long before you’re about to burst.

However, he would ask you how he can help. For as observant as he is, he’s also not a mind reader, and if there’s something specific he can get you, he would want to know, even if it’s seemingly small or superficial.

He would be pretty proactive about it, too. The second he figures out how he can help, he’s on it. You need a new desk to work from home? He’ll have it built by that weekend. You’re feeling overwhelmed and behind on your tasks? He’s already doing the ones he can do without your help.

He does his best to try and help you relax if the issue is a stressor, and if he could, he would eradicate the root of the stress from your life completely. Unfortunately, in the real world, that’s not always possible, but it’s nice to know that he’s willing.

The other obvious answer is tea, but allow me to expand it more generally to food. Going along with the theme of acts of service being his love language, Levi would try to provide the basic necessities for you in order to allow to focus on solving your problems and/or feeling better. If not worrying about dinner is one thing that can help you, Levi’s happy to cook for you.

Dreams — How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Simple, but fulfilled. Levi just wants to be happy—to have someone to care for, and to have someone who will care for him.

Truthfully, I don’t think he’d mind children later down the road, and I think he would be a good parent. It might not be something he talks about outright at first, but as time progresses, and perhaps the timing becomes right, it’d be something he would want to consider.

Equal — Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

It’s equal. Levi doesn’t want to have more power, nor does he want to be passive. However, there are things he doesn’t mind handing over to you, and conversely, responsibilities he doesn’t mind taking on himself.

Compromise would be a big part in the relationship—not for the sake of compromising on your dreams or ambitions, but rather, to reach a middle ground if there’s any kind of argument.

I think it’s a give and take with him. And I don’t think he would want it to be any other way. He doesn’t strike me as someone who’s on either polar end.

Fight — Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

When you do fight, it’s a lot of pointed frustration. He doesn’t raise his voice, but he can get snippy, and a little closed off—speaking in clipped sentences, using underhanded phrases, focusing on past points. What drives him crazy is the aftermath of the fight, and if you give him the silent treatment, he’s bound to crack much sooner than later.

He’s quite easy to forgive. Canonically, he doesn’t like to fight with his friends or the people he cares about, and he would rather reach a solution as quickly as possible.

We saw that with Isabel and Farlan, despite the way he was firm on his decision for them to stay behind, they were able to break his resolve pretty quickly. He cares a lot about the people in his life, and I don’t think he’d like to go long with a riff between him and you. Especially if he thinks he might regret not talking to you about it sooner.

He’s one to keep a promise, but not to hold a grudge. That is to say, he understands that forgiveness goes both ways, and to work in a healthy relationship, both parties have to forgive themselves and each other at some point.

Gratitude — How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Yes and no. It might take a minute for Levi to understand the depth of your actions—especially the ones that appear more mundane or are not as explicitly romantic.

Once he does, he is very aware of them, and as such, if very grateful. He didn’t every really think he’d be able to create and be apart of the kind of loving relationship the two of you have. He really cherishes it.

Honesty — Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

He has secrets by way of omission. He doesn’t lie to keep things hidden from you, but sometimes he doesn’t tell everything about himself, especially towards the start of your relationship.

It’s not always with malicious or even self-protective intent. He just doesn’t share because he doesn’t think it’s important, or that you might care. If you pry long enough or insist that you want to know just to know and because you care, then he’s happy to share.

As previously mentioned, it might take him a while to realize just how much you care about him, and his past and interests by extension.

Inspiration — Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

As your relationship progresses Levi comes to learn that you genuinely find him attractive not just physically, but emotionally and psychologically. That you actually want to know him and that he’s worth knowing.

So, his biggest change is in the way he approaches his thoughts about himself and his self worth. But he also begins to pick up on your habits, your interests, and tries to understand your general approach to life, too.

He would probably change you in some ways, too. Most notably in the way you organize and clean your space, probably. He’s not sorry about it.

Jealousy — Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

No, he doesn’t. To him, jealously would imply that someone has something he wants. Firstly, you’re not an object to him, and secondly, he has you. There’s nothing more to it.

He’s not childish, nor is he out of check with his emotions, so he wouldn’t lash out on you, especially if it’s not your fault. In his small momentary slips, you wouldn’t even have noticed he was jealous at all.

He wouldn’t like it if someone was repeatedly making advances on you, especially if you’ve explicitly told them off/they were making you uncomfortable. In situations like that, he would simply try to get the both of you out of there/away from the person as quickly as possible.

There’s also an element of trust to this with Levi. He wouldn’t expect you to try and make him jealous out of spite; and he would trust that you wouldn’t play on the advances of other people if you notice them.

Kiss — Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

He is a good kisser. Mainly because he’s very perceptive to what you want and how to give it you.

The first kiss was sweet. Knowing Levi, there was probably quite the build up to it, so even if it was sweet and innocent, there was a layer of tension and a crash of emotions coming forward in the moment. It was memorable, to say the least.

Love Confession — How would they confess to their s/o?

I have imagined this time and time again… and I think it really depends on the foundation of your relationship/friendship with him before.

In the most generic scenario, it would probably be a little backwards—you would have, intentionally or not, gone on some dates before he realized what his feelings really were, and then take it from there.

If you were friends for a while before hand, it can probably go the implicit dating route—that is you’re both exclusively emotionally invested in each other, and basically involved in most relationship aspects without having realized it or put a label on it. You kind of naturally morph into a relationship, and it probably takes a verbal confession or kiss or two to solidify it.

It can also go the sexual tension route, and one day one of you finally snaps and makes a move. The verbal confession would come in the aftermath, but your actions will have solidified and expressed your feelings long before that.

Marriage — Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Again, yes and no. Without taking into account the legal aspects, the actual concept of marriage is that juxtaposition of sweet and powerful that Levi likes; the idea of devoting yourself to someone and receiving a special kind of love for the rest of your life.

And while all of that is beautiful to him, there are the unfortunate cultural norms or marriage, especially in a modern au. The legality of it all, especially the financial defaults, would be a headache. Not to mention all the fluff and grandeur and gender expectations about it. He thinks all of that fucking sucks.

Above all, he doesn’t get why people expect him to pay for what’s basically an expensive document that tells the federal government he lives with you and loves you. He could do that without them in his business.

If you want to get married, then the proposal is sweet. Intimate, and probably a call back to something in your relationship, or a significant date/event for the both of you. He wouldn’t dare do it in public or even involve anybody else, other than maybe asking a friend or two.

Marriage with Levi is much like being in a long-term relationship with him. The way he acts in marriage isn’t exponentially different than the way he had been acting as your boyfriend. It’s all still very quiet, very sweet, very domestic.

Nicknames — What do they call their s/o?

He calls you by your name, unless you ask him to call you by something else. He might call you by an actual nickname, that is a shortened version of your name, if that’s the name you usually go by.

He’s not big on pet names and they slip out from time to time, but not in place of your actual name on an every day basis. If anything, he calls your name with a very unique tone to his voice. He rarely calls for anybody else with the same tone and/or emotion.

On Cloud Nine — What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

It’s not… not obvious to his friends, but he doesn’t look like he’s been shot by cupids arrow or anything. If you know Levi, you might pick up on the fact that he seems a bit happier, less stressed, has taken up new hobbies/habits, etc. But there’s not he’s not shitting rainbows and sunshine all of a sudden.

Love is very personal and intimate for him. He would do his best to express to you that he loves you and loves the love he receives from you, but he doesn’t feel that everyone else needs to know.

So, it’s somehow simultaneously noticeable and unnoticeable when you’re together in the presence of other people.

PDA — Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss when others are watching?

Levi isn’t big on PDA. He’s not hiding your relationship, but he doesn’t care to boast it to every person he meets, either. If somebody asks him, he’ll happily say that he’s in a relationship, but he doesn’t bring it forward himself.

He’s not hiding it or shy, but he doesn’t feel the need to be all over you in public. He doesn’t anything to prove to anybody. Besides, nobody wants to see that shit. He knows he wouldn’t.

There are some displays of affection, though. Hand holding isn’t abnormal, though likely not in a casual space with your friends or family. He’ll brush is hand along your arm when he’s walking past you, might ruffle your hair if the occasion calls for it, squeeze your thigh under the table.

Quirk — Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

He’s canonically good at math. This comes in handy when you’re at restaurants and trying to calculate a tip quickly. Somehow, he knows how to figure out 18% of your bill in 3 seconds flat.

It also comes in handy when you’re trying to organize things. Along with math comes a pretty good understanding of spatial reasoning. Somehow Levi is always able to put away your left overs using the smallest and least amount of tupperware possible. It’s kind of ridiculous, he might be a wizard.

Romance — How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

In the traditional sense, he might not appear romantic, but he’s the kind of person to say or do or gift little things that would take a much deeper romantic understanding of his partner than some grand, generic act like buying a thousand roses.

His romance is tailored to you and your relationship, not general expectations of what it means to be “romantic.”

Support — Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Levi is very devoted to you, so if you ask for his help, or he can help without stepping on your toes, he will. He wants you to not only succeed, but feel fulfilled through your achievements, and he’s happy to help you get there.

He believes in you wholeheartedly. If it’s something you really want, Levi wouldn’t dare doubt that you could achieve it.

Thrill — Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

He doesn’t feel the need to try out new things based on expectations, but if you want to try something, or if he wants to try something, you can have a conversation about it, and eventually try it out.

There’s a sort of established routine in a domestic sense; a sharing of a mutual space and the behaviors associated with that. But there’s not, like, established date nights or “week-a-versaries.”

In that sense, he can be pretty spontaneous; bringing up new places to go or activities to try when the idea strikes him. But I suppose it’s never something… too adventurous? Not dangerous, at least lololol, he’s not going to randomly suggest you go skydiving as a bonding exercise.

Understanding — How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Very well. Levi kind of makes you his business—in the most non-intrusive way possible. He’s perceptive and picks up on things about you with relative ease, and genuine interest.

He can predict how you might respond in a situation with pretty good accuracy, can guess what you might pick off the menu at a new restaurant, if given a choice has a good sense of which option you’ll choose. Very much a “I knew you would say that/do that, I don’t know why I even asked,” kind of person once he gets to know you.

He can be pretty empathetic, and I think he would be in a relationship.

Value — How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Your relationship is pretty damn important to Levi, and he devotes a significant amount of time and attention to it. Not in the place of giving time for himself, his friends, family or interests; but he is very much devoted to you.

However, he’s not the type to give up solid opportunities (ex: financial, for his family/mom, career-wise) for the sake of a relationship, especially if he’s not in the position to do so; and he wouldn’t want you to give up exceptional opportunities that align with your goals for him either.

Everything is relative in that sense, I suppose. He cares for you, deeply, and knows that you do, too. That, contrary to popular belief, is what enables you both to be strong enough to bend and not break.

Wild Card — A random fluff head canon.

I’ll give you a few :)

If you want him to, Levi will do your hair for you, and he’s pretty fucking good at it, too; hair type or texture be damned, he’ll take his time with it, and do it well for you.

When he’s alone, Levi hums himself to sleep. Usually singing/humming his mother’s favorite songs and/or songs he remembers hearing as a child.

He always gives you the lighter bags when you take your groceries upstairs/into your house. He doesn’t tell you, but he knows you don’t like to ‘make’ him do all the work.

He always makes dinner if he gets home before you.

He’s a pretty good artist, and has even drawn you once. He’s never told you or shown you, but he keeps the picture folded up in his wallet. Or behind his phone case.

XOXO — Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Affectionate in private, yes. He doesn’t mind it if you’re all over him, and truthfully, has his moments where he’s shamelessly all over you, too. Especially in the morning, he’s a cuddle bug.

Kisses are always good, he would never oppose them. He’s quite easy to persuade with kisses, actually. And most physical touches; he doesn’t get them often, so he kind of melts when he does.

Cuddles, too. Again, all of this is private and in the comfort of your own home. His favorite way to cuddle is to either have you completely on top of him, or to lay his head in your lap. Because he loves the feeling of you playing with his hair.

Yearning — How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Levi will take part in things you like or things you’ve claimed in your shared space.

For example, he might find himself eating your favorite foods more often, sitting on the spot on the couch your sit in most often, rolling over to your side of the bed in his sleep.

He also likes to look back on pictures of the two of you. He doesn’t particularly like to be photographed, but he likes having these physical memories of your relationship, so he’ll indulge you when you want to take a picture together. And they come in real handy during times like this.

Zeal — Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Levi will definitely put up a fight for you, so long as it’s mutual. He wouldn’t pour his effort into someone or a relationship in which he feels like he’s not receiving the same.

I’m not sure what great lengths there would be to go to in a modern au, but he definitely believes that relationships are hard work, and as such, is prepared to put in the work when things get hard. He’s not a quitter, and he knows that love is foundation and requires time and energy.

He cares about you too much to let you go without reason.

#aot x reader #snk x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x you #aot imagines #snk imagines #levi fluff #levi smut #eren x reader

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favoniuscodex · 3 years

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inheritance . act one [diluc x reader]

inheritance act one of five: denial arranged marriage royalty au prince!diluc x f!knight!reader

fic summary: you're the heir apparent's key to obtaining the throne you've sworn to protect since you were a child. but in barbatos' domain, where freedom reigns, you must first answer a question: is freedom found in the ability to spread your wings and take flight on mondstadt's winds or is freedom found in the ability to choose to remain flightless?

word count: 19.6k

warnings: alcohol, minor descriptions of wounds and violence, bleeding, pining, oblivious characters, no explicit nsfw, enemies(?) to lovers

fic masterlist

a/n: i’m happy it’s finally done! i’m so excited to share this with you all! i hope you like it. please post here to be on the taglist! characters may be ooc at first but they’ll grow into their rightful personalities, dw! <3

You first met Diluc when you were eight, the boy being two years older than you. It was an accidental meeting. Commoners like you weren’t supposed to be in the palace, but your father was one of the palace’s Royal Knights, assigned to protect the king and his royal family, even at the cost of his life. You were far too young to grasp the political implications of what “serving the throne” actually meant, just believing that it meant you got to run around in cool armor while slaying dragons.

At least, that’s what the colorful storybooks that littered the floor of your childhood room had told you.

The boy had seemed nervous. Much like you at that age, he was a true introvert at heart. His princely duties extended past such nerves as he was forced to cast human consternation and worries aside and extend his hand to you.

“I am Prince Diluc of Mond,” He proudly stated, mustering as much righteousness into his words that a ten-year-old was capable of doing.

You were too young to notice it yet, but such an act was false bravado on the prince’s behalf.

You shook his hand limply, unfamiliar with such formal gestures. A nudge from your father enforced the power dynamic that would persist between you and the prince for years to come, as your father reminded you to bow in respect. After bowing, you stayed quiet for a few more moments before being nudged gently by your father again. A confused look passed over your face before you remembered what you needed to do.

“Oh, I’m (Y/N)!” you giggled. “It’s nice to meet you!”

Diluc stared at you for a moment before a grin broke out onto his face. “My father wanted me to ask if you wanted to come play with my brother and I?”

You looked at Diluc before glancing up at your father for permission, who simply smiled and nodded his goodwill in return. In response, Diluc latched his hand around your wrist and the two of you ran down the hallway to go play pirates.

---

When you were fourteen, Diluc appeared in your life once more.

It’s amusing as to how quickly a mere second encounter can shatter fond memories developed prior.

“This is Knight (Y/L/N),” a fellow knight had introduced you to the prince. “Her duties will consist of protecting the royal family, with a focus on you, my prince.”

The redhead had simply scoffed, looking you up and down with distaste. If he remembered your brief childhood rendezvous, he failed to show it. His eyes glinted with annoyance and his lips curled slightly downwards, yet you bowed in respect, for you had sworn an oath of fealty to the kingdom. Whether the people you watched over agreed or disagreed with your methods mattered not to you, for you had been assigned to this position by the king himself. Anyone who ranked below him could not waver such undying loyalty, even if they were his son.

“She’s my bodyguard?” Diluc’s tone was one of disdain as he folded his arms. “She’s a child. I’d be better off protecting myself, especially since she doesn’t have a vision. I don’t want her.”

Your stoic expression matches Diluc’s slight frown, unshaken by his words. However, you couldn’t say the same for the knight that had re-introduced the two of you. Despite being much older and of higher rank than you, the poor man was shaking in his boots from being reprimanded by the king’s tempestuous son.

“My prince, with all due respect, she is the most promising knight out of the academy in many years. She’s an excellent fighter and chivalrous at heart. I can assure the king has picked only the best knight for you,” your fellow knight insisted as you remained steady.

“My father picked her?” Diluc’s voice softens almost imperceptibly, not having expected such information. “Very well then. Even if I do not believe she is of assistance, I have no capability to argue with one of my father’s orders.”

A wave of relief washes over your superior’s face upon Diluc’s concession. “Thank you, my liege,” He says, genuflecting in the prince’s direction before standing tall and saluting. Diluc’s crimson gaze turns to yours and presses his lips together in a slight frown.

“Well?” The prince snaps, seemingly expecting something of you as he folds his arms. Your stoic expression shatters as you raise an eyebrow. “Do you not have something to say to me as well?”

Oh. You finally understand. He’s not just having a bad day. He’s just an asshat.

“With all due respect, my prince,” You respond, finally breaking your silence. “I am not aware of any words of yours that deserve my gratitude. All three of us are merely following orders.”

You feign innocence at your contemptuous words, biting back a smirk as the haughty redhead glowers at you. The knight next to you looks as if he wants to run away. Sensing his discomfort, Diluc wordlessly waves him off and your eyes flicker away from Diluc’s vermillion gaze to watch the knight salute before marching off, leaving you and your new assignment alone together. Diluc looks you up and down once more, his eyes ablaze with ire at your mere presence.

“What is your name?” Diluc queries. His harsh tone contracts with the societal politeness embedded into his question. “Royal Knight (Y/L/N), sir.” You respond with a quick salute. Diluc stares at you with a mixture of confusion and disgust.

“That is not what I meant. What is your first name?” He clarifies, his vocal inflection making it clear that such a notion should have been obvious to you from the beginning. “You are not a dog, I do not wish to refer to you in such a manner.”

Your lips remain neutral, but you can’t help the confused look that shows in your eyes. It was far too late for him to say such things. He had already treated both you and your superior with disrespect. Nonetheless, as he is a higher rank than you, you answered him. “(Y/N), sir.”

“Well, (Y/N), it appears that we are stuck together. It would be in your best interest not to slow me down,” His words are cavalier and cautionary, yet you discern a faint hint of hollowness in his words, as if he’s not exactly sure what to say or do with you.

You nod in response and give a slight smirk in hopes of easing the tension between the two of you. Diluc doesn’t smile back.

---

A year of being Diluc’s bodyguard (a position akin to being a glorified babysitter, except you have authorization to use lethal force) passes and you find a friend in the most unlikely of places: Diluc’s own brother, Kaeya. The blue-haired boy is a cheerful, charming spirit who took an immediate interest in you upon your first meeting.

“My older brother probably hates you,” He had said and you were unsure as to how to respond until he let out a laugh. “That’s okay. He hates almost everyone. I’m Prince Kaeya!”

Kaeya’s ability to find you on the castle grounds whenever your services are not needed for the elder prince is almost troubling. Any brief moment of peace you have often results in the persistent prince appearing at your side, excited to speak with you about whatever was going on in his life. Kaeya’s determination to become your friend, you soon realized, is rooted in the fact that the prince has little to no interaction with others of his age, something you had also noticed in Diluc’s own life upon your time watching him. Kaeya was not allowed the privilege to have friends his age, something you had taken for granted back in your hometown of Springvale.

“What are you thinking about?” Kaeya asks, the two of you sitting on a bench outside of the knight’s quarters. He bites into one of the apples he had brought along with him, soft crunching noises filling the the silence between you as you attempt to formulate a response.

“Well,” Your eyes flicker to the clusters of windwheel asters planted by the entrance to your residence building. “I am afraid my thoughts are not of much value at the moment.” You draw your words out in order to give yourself time to think of how to phrase your words. “At the moment, my thoughts are not very… kind.” Upon your words, Kaeya’s blue eyes gleam with delight as he leans over closer to you. The boy has pestered you enough to know what such words mean, as they are not a slight to him, but rather disdainful of his older brother.

“Do share them,” Kaeya pleads, his tone eager to hear what complaints you may have about Diluc.

You flatten your hands on the flat surface of the stone bench behind you and look up into the cloudless blue sky, enjoying the feeling of the warm spring sun on your skin as you utter your next words, “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Yes, yes!” Kaeya laughs, excitedly. “Share your vile thoughts so the world may cast their judgement upon the wicked sinfulness that reverberates in your mind!”

You snap your head to the boy next to you and stare at him with wide eyes at his words. The second your eyes meet his playful ones, the both of you break out into raucous laughter at his theatrics. His tone was haughty, mimicking many of the stuffy elites the two of you were surrounded by, including Diluc. At times like these, you were reminded that Kaeya was an outsider to the palace, just like you were, yet the hierarchy of the two of your duties separated you from him.

“Okay, okay,” You huff, trying to catch your breath from laughing. Kaeya simmers down upon realizing you are about to talk and looks at you expectantly, leaning slightly in your direction. “Yes, it’s about him.” The two of you burst into laughter once more.

“When is it not?” Kaeya giggles. “He’s so weird with you compared to how he acts with me.”

“That’s because you’re his brother. Of course he’s going to be nicer to you.” You explain before shaking your head slightly and swatting your hand through the air to signal that such a topic of conversation is something you did not wish to focus upon. “Anyways, today we were in another one of those stuffy formality meetings with some Inazuman diplomates. Y’know, those ones. And I’m standing by the door, keeping watch, like… it’s the usual kind of stuff I’m supposed to do. The meeting was supposed to be two hours, but Diluc’s refusal to compromise made the meeting run over it’s designated time by an hour. I swear, if not for the fact that it would cause an international scandal, Diluc and the diplomat guy would’ve started fighting each other.”

Kaeya’s eyebrows raise at your last statement and he laughs once more. “That’s Diluc for you. He means well but is awful at showing it to most people. He just… really believes in himself.”

“He shouldn’t,” You respond before clapping a hand over your mouth in shock as Kaeya roars with joy at your words, relishing in your loss of respect for the redheaded prince in your words. “I… I don’t mean it like that! I just mean… he’s still young. Such an unshakable perspective on international relations will only lead to foreign envoys viewing him poorly.”

“Yes, I wholeheartedly agree, but neither of us want to tell him this. He’d just scream at you and would give me the cold shoulder,” Kaeya muses as he outstretches a hand to you, offering one of the untouched apples he had brought along to you. You nod your appreciation and take the apple, piercing through its skin with your teeth as you bite into the red fruit.

“Prince Diluc does like to lecture his subordinates,” You agree after swallowing. “Especially me.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Kaeya advises with an optimistic smile. “If he’s willingly speaking to you at all, it means he likes you. He just does a piss poor job at showing it to anyone outside of the family.”

“Because he’s entitled.” You respond and Kaeya winks at you, gesturing his approval in your direction.

“Precisely! Now you’re getting it!”

---

On your sixteenth birthday, Diluc provides no well-wishes, but manages to give you the best present of all: a better attitude. His words are no longer infused with the disdain he once held for you, but rather coated with only a slight annoyance. With Diluc, you’ll take any improvement you can get. The change in his demeanor had left you reeling after a mere ten-word question, the whiplash from the complete upheaval of his attitude stunning you into silence.

“Would you care to go to the market with me?” Diluc had asked absentmindedly, focused on his paperwork at hand.

You had stood by the entrance to his personal study, warding off any unwanted visitors with your daunting presence and stoic demeanor. Despite how intimidating the other maids found you, Diluc had paid this unapproachable disposition of yours no mind, much to your gratitude. But as the rather innocent question fell from the prince’s lips, you couldn’t help but to look around and reassure that no one else had slipped into the room and evaded your watchful eye.

Diluc had given you a choice with his question -- an action he had never performed before.

Irked by your silence, Diluc set his pen down and looked up at you expectantly, folding his hands together and resting them on the desk in front of him. “Well?” He scoffed.

“Visiting Mondstadt’s main street would be nice,” You responded, unsure of your words. With Diluc, you were always unsure of your words. “Would you like me to assemble a party of knights to accompany us?”

Diluc let out a sigh and shook his head, leaning back in his chair. “I do not wish to attract unwanted attention with such procedures. I simply wish to get a breath of fresh air. Only your presence is requested, unless you believe it is unwise for me to leave with so few men by my side.” The boy’s words were inquisitive, holding an unfamiliar softness to him. The realization that the prince is genuinely seeking your approval of his plan caused you to bite back a smile in fear of spoiling his uncharacteristically pleasant mood.

Therefore, rather than rushing an answer to his response, you mulled it over. You had no reservations about your own fighting skills, having been chosen for your current position due to your highly proficient swordsmanship. Additionally, you knew of Diluc’s training with both his Pyro vision and his claymore, so you had few worries for the prince being able to handle his own. Both of these factors combined meant that you only had one issue to worry about.

“Well, according to protocol, a departure from the palace grounds would require multiple guards to be at your side,” You speculated, watching as Diluc’s shoulders fell slightly as he let out a huff of contempt. He lifted up his pen and prepared to work once more, but your additional words caused him to cease this motion. “But… I believe there is a way we can bypass these regulations, but I am not quite sure if you will enjoy it.”

Your plan leads to you standing in the main square of Mondstadt, hands clasped together as you watch a group of children run around the fountain. You are standing in your typical Royal Knight uniform with your weapon strapped to your back. At your side stands Prince Diluc, disguised as a fellow Royal Knight, much to his behest. His claymore rests upon his back, ready for him to wield should any evil-doers elected to make their presences known.

For Diluc, his cherry-colored hair and matching eyes do little to disguise him, but his typical introversion aids him, as the average Mondstadtian is unlikely to recognize their prince and, for those that do, are unlikely to believe that their prince is dressed up in Royal Knight attire and perusing the shops of Mondstadt with only one knight by his side. Your illicit plan, which involved smuggling a spare uniform into the castle then proceeding to sneak the prince wearing said uniform out of the castle, relies now upon one thing: the stupidity of your fellow citizens.

For your job’s sake, you pray to Barbatos that it works.

“I do not enjoy this outfit,” Diluc grumbles next to you, causing your attention to snap from watching the commoners of Mondstadt and instead to the prince of said kingdom. He pinches at some of the fabric on his leg, stretching it around in hopes of making the outfit more comfortable. You have never had any issues with said uniform, but then again, you aren’t a prince who has all of his clothes custom tailored to his build.

“To achieve true happiness, we all have to do things we don’t exactly like to do.” You chirp. Diluc’s aloof visage is now marred by furrowed eyebrows as he tries to decipher any potential hidden meanings behind your potentially parabolic words. However, you fail to give him proper time to ruminate, instead deciding to speak once more. “Where were you hoping to visit, sir?”

Diluc returns to his usual silence, but a faint flush that appears on his cheeks notifies you of his bashfulness.

“I’m… not sure,” He admits. If you did not have a code of conduct to follow, you would be screeching in delight at Diluc, the arrogant prince of Mond, finally admitting he does not know something. “I do not often have the chance to visit the heart of the city, especially in such a leisurely manner. However, you are from here, are you not?”

“I am from Springvale, sir.” You respond, forgoing your typical formality of my prince. After all, such a title would immediately blow Diluc’s cover. The redhead looks crestfallen at your words. “But… I resided in Mondstadt with my father while training to be a knight. I won’t be as good of a tour guide as a local, but I should be decent.”

“Do you know of any… eating establishments?” Diluc asks. You narrowly avoid sending a judgemental look his way at his wording. Did he not know they were called restaurants? Had Diluc never been to a restaurant? You were baffled.

“Do you prefer a to-go restaurant or a sit-down restaurant, sir?” You question and Diluc’s relaxed expression turns into one of befuddlement. Well, that answered the question if Diluc had ever experienced the basic societal activity that was eating at a restaurant. You knew royals were detached from society, but you never would have thought it to be this bad.

“Alright,” You say after a few beats of silence, smart enough to know that Diluc isn’t going to respond. The redhead’s expression returns to his typical indifferent one. “We’ll go to a sit-down restaurant, if that’s okay. A bit more expensive, but it’s probably the most immersive experience for eating at a restaurant for the first time.”

“I have been to a restaurant before,” Diluc lies, trying to save face as his cheeks begin to tint with pink upon realizing that you’ve seen right through him. You look at him blankly and his eyebrows twitch in annoyance upon his revelation that you weren’t buying his protests. “Fine, then. Lead the way.”

His typical annoyed tone is back. Well, kind Diluc was nice while it lasted, you think, rolling your shoulders slightly in preparation for his typical attitude. You nod in response and begin to walk. The prince matches your pace, determined to not fall behind someone of a lower rank than him.

---

You start to wonder if everyone in Mondstadt is pretending to be oblivious to the prince in their presence or if they’re actually just that stupid.

It’s a miracle that you managed to corral the prince’s confident attitude long enough to get him to sit down and order some food at The Good Hunter. Upon your arrival, Diluc managed to ignore the politely worded “Please wait to be seated” sign and started to walk past the hostess table, determined to seat himself. You had to pull him back to you by yanking his arm, an action that surely would have made Diluc lecture you for fifteen minutes, if not for the fact that he was still undercover. Instead, he settled for a scathing glare which only worsened as you gestured at the sign in front of the two of you.

Additionally, the prince was baffled by the entire ordering process, especially upon you informing him that it would take upwards of thirty minutes to receive your food. He was put off by the fact the chefs wouldn’t drop everything just to serve him first, to which you had simply taken a sip of your drink and not responded to such opinions. Now, the two of you were sitting in silence as your gaze fluttered around the restaurant and any passerbys, analyzing for potential threats. You found comfort in the silence as you were used to standing vigilant and quiet through your duty as Diluc’s personal Royal Knight.

“You are quiet,” Diluc states, his words almost an accusation. You look at him inquisitively, your gaze moving from the entrance to his red hues. You tilt your head slightly at his statement, signalling your confusion at his words. Diluc lets out a huff, bothered by your petulant, purposefully silent response. “You never speak unless if spoken to.”

“Would you prefer if I talk more, sir?” You ask. After all, you served the throne, which extended to Diluc. Any wish of his was your command, even if you thought he was generally an uppity, self-absorbed jerk. His eyes narrow slightly.

“I typically appreciate your silence,” Diluc confesses. It doesn’t feel like a compliment. “But now? It is quite irritating.” The prince stares you down, awaiting your reply.

“If I may ask, sir, why is such a thing irritating?” You question, turning your gaze back to the entrance as you speak. “I am merely observing the building for any potential threats to your life.”

“Look around, (Y/N),” Diluc says exasperatedly, as if his answer should be obvious. Yeah, that’s what I’ve been doing, you think bitterly, but elect to keep such thoughts to yourself. “Everyone here is speaking with someone else. Such social interactions are a simplicity of life commoners take for granted. The ability to speak freely with a non-familial companion is something I envy.”

Your gaze snaps back to the prince and you raise your eyebrows. “Is a wish for such companionship why you wished to go to the market, sir? To be a part of the lower citizenry?”

The prince breaks from staring at you, instead electing to study his hands in his lap, flustered by such a straightforward question. “I wish to better understand my subjects, yes. But I also wish to have the same liberties as them. I long for the freedom for platonic association with others of my age.”

“So…” You trail off for a second, lost in thought. “You want friends?”

The prince smiles bitterly at his friends. “Yes,” He answers truthfully. The single word is imbued with intense envy. “Everyone in my life, apart from my father and my brother, is placed in my life to placate me, rather than to accompany me.”

Your eyebrows raise briefly at his confession, perplexed as to why the prince is being so forthright and honest with you. For a split second, you wonder if the prince is swallowing his pride and asking to be your friend, but you quickly shoo such a childish thought out of your brain. You quickly determine that the prince isn’t interested in friendship, but rather wishes to use his subordinates, such as yourself, to fill the void in his heart. You decide to placate him nonetheless with a soft smile.

“Companionship is what you make of it,” You suggest, leaving your words vague as you lean back against your seat, crossing your arms and returning to watching the interest. The two of you fall into a silence once more, before Diluc speaks once more.

“I do not know much about you.” The redhead states. “Where are you from?”

For a man who wanted friends, he’s awfully bad at remembering information about his companions, you think. But you’ll gladly take the forced conversation with Diluc over him barking orders and insults at you all the time. You are well aware that you’ve sworn to protect the throne, even at the cost of your life, but you can’t help the desire for freedom from such burdens that swims in the depths of your mind.

“Springvale,” You echo absentmindedly. You barely hold yourself back from asking where he’s from, even if it would be funny to see his face twist in frustration at your teasing. “I was born there, but moved away at the age of ten to begin training to be a Knight of Favonius. Things changed and I ended up as a Royal Knight instead.”

Diluc’s interest is piqued at your words. You can’t help the feeling of discomfort that washes over you upon the sudden realization that you’re having a friendly conversation with your superior, a man who can barely tolerate your presence on a good day. He seems to be trying, though, and you can’t help but sympathize with his loneliness. As his personal guard, you’d be the first to say that Prince Diluc has very few friends.

“Why did you elect to become a Royal Knight rather than a Knight of Favonius?” Diluc asks, his crimson eyes staring at you.

“Permission to speak freely?” You requested, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. The question that you constantly asked his younger brother was now difficult to get out. Diluc’s eyes widen slightly, startled at your request, but his relaxed visage quickly returns, disguising his emotions once more.

“Permission granted.” Diluc says. The words feel jarring coming from him and you can tell he feels the same discomfort you do at this sudden change in professionalism between the two of you, yet he makes no move to change the topic of conversation or to stop you from speaking.

“My personal view on the Knights of Favonius is that…” Your words sound distant as you try to find the proper way of phrasing what you need to say. “They’re inefficient. Most of the Knights within Ordo Favonius prefer to serve themselves rather than the community of Mondstadt as a whole. They’re there because it’s a well-paying job. They dislike anything that threatens their reputation and job security.”

At that moment, you had no idea how seriously Diluc would take your words and the lasting impact such a confession would have on him.

---

You’re seventeen when you encounter the worst threat to the palace yet. You had been alone, forced to fight an Abyss Mage who had breached Mondstadt’s walls and headed in the direction of the palace. You had destroyed its shield by throwing a rock at a nearby exploding barrel on the wall. The resulting explosion had alerted nearby knights of the Abyss Mage’s presence, but the creature’s Cryo magic had severely frostbitten your arm before any help could arrive. In return, you had wielded your sword with a single hand and delivered the killing blow to the creature.

The Knights of Favonius weren’t happy with your decision to kill the creature, stating that having an abyss mage in their possession could have been a valuable resource. Helping the Knights of Favonius with their research wasn’t your job -- protecting the throne was. Therefore, you had no regrets about your decision to kill the gremlin who had almost taken your arm.

You sit on a bed in the Cathedral’s infirmary as a healer frets over your arm, using the power of their Anemo vision to speed up the healing process. The frostbite was recoverable, they had told you, but it would likely result in permanent scarring. To ensure full use of your arm would return, you were recommended to take a leave of absence from your protective duties in the palace for the following month.

While you were happy to be alive, you were irritated that such a situation would put you out of work for the next month. Sure, your position wasn’t the greatest, but it was a stepping stone to a better position within the Royal Knights, such as becoming one of the king’s personal knights or one of the organizers of palace operations. The organization itself focused on palace operations, which meant there wasn’t much room for growth as compared to the Knights of Favonius, who protected Mondstadt’s citizenry.

A month out of work meant a month less of progress in your career and, more importantly, a month less of protecting the throne you had sworn your life to protect. Your fate of becoming a knight was a decision you had made at a young age, clueless and starry-eyed, as you watched your father perform his duties around the palace. He had been a high-ranking Royal Knight, one of King Crepus’s personal entourage. He had wholeheartedly believed in everything the throne of Mond stood for, declaring that the throne protected the freedom of Mond’s people and fulfilled Barbatos’s wishes. As you trusted and idolized your father, you also inherited his same ideologies, locking you into a permanent life of duty as you swore to help defend Mond’s royal family from harm.

You had made that promise when you were ten and had yet to doubt it, seven years later.

The door to your infirmary room swings open and you watch the healer, still fussing over your arm as he applies new bandages, jump slightly at the unexpected intrusion. Despite the pain medications that the Sisters had given you before the healer began his work, your arm still throbs in pain, causing you to let out a hiss as the healer moves your arm in the midst of his surprise. He mutters a slight apology, but you’re more distracted by the intruder.

Your eyes widen in surprise, not having expected the intruder to be none other than Prince Diluc. His eyes flicker to your arm and, despite how the pain medication swirls your vision and jumbles your thoughts, you can see the irked disappointment in his eyes at your injury. Such a wound only results in inconvenience for him as he now needs to have a temporary replacement knight, who is unfamiliar with his typical protocols and routines. The prince lets out a long sigh.

“What? My supposed best knight is unable to handle some cryo slimes?” Diluc scoffs derisively.

Since your birthday last year, your relationship with Diluc has improved somewhat. Speaking to him often resulted in stiff, awkward conversation, but it is an upgrade from before, where talking to the prince in an amicable manner wasn’t even an option. More often than not, it would be the prince initiating awkward conversation between the two of you, not quite sure how to interact with someone his age outside without the use of diplomatic charm. The prince, just under two years older than you, didn’t seem interested in being your friend, but you also weren’t sure what to make of his platonic advances.

But now, as you sat in the Cathedral’s infirmary, you realized Diluc wasn’t here to provide friendship. He was just here to lecture you about your mistake of choosing to fight an Abyss Mage, about how you should’ve just let another knight deal with him, and about how you should have sacrificed the potential safety of the throne for his immediate comfort.

“Wasn’t any slimes,” Your lips are heavy as you struggle to form the words without slurring them together. “Was an Abyss Mage. Cryo one.” Your mind churns as you try your absolute hardest to focus on the situation at hand. Diluc’s in the room, you remind yourself as you fight the urge to slump back and fall asleep. You stare at Diluc, eyelids drooping with fatigue. You notice your fresh bandages turning red once more, causing the healer to sigh and apply more to your arm.

The prince is silent, but you see a quick flash of fear pass over his face, followed by an expression of concern. Both emotions are short-lived as he readjusts his posture and presses his lips into a frown, crosses his arms, and shifts his weight onto one leg.

“You should not have fought an Abyss Ma-,” He begins, but a loud bark of a laugh erupts from your system, interrupting him.

“H… Have you ever fought anything?” Your words are accusatory and borderline incoherent, but the narrowing of Diluc’s eyes lets you know that he understood what you had just said. “All… all you do is sit around! And… and… and you waste your vision! Everyone does everything… for you… I fight to protect you… your family… I don’t want to get injured, but here I am…”

The healer, upon realizing that you’re disrespecting the crown prince of Mond, wordlessly excuses himself from the situation and slips past Diluc to exit the room. Diluc parts his lips, ready to speak again, as a scowl crosses his face at your disrespectful words. However, before the redhead can speak once more, you raise a shaky hand, holding up your middle finger to the prince.

“If you’re… if you’re just gonna lecture me for… risking my life… for you… eat shit.” You manage to say, words garbled. You relish in the widening of Diluc’s eyes as he opens his mouth to yell before closing your eyes and promptly falling asleep, slumping over on the infirmary bed.

---

You awoke the next day with no recollection of the prior day’s events, except an innate sense of satisfaction, as if you had gotten something off your chest. Nervous that you had potentially said something foul to someone you shouldn’t have, you awaited a formal reprimanding of your unknown actions, but never received one.

Now, two weeks in, you’re finally getting back to normal as you water the plants outside of the knight’s quarters, having been assigned to take care of the landscaping today. Despite the tasks being relatively easy, they took you a while to complete due to one of your arms being stuck in a sling. You crouch over, trying to balance as you lean forward to water one of the red flowers stuck in the back of the arrangement.

“Hey!” A voice calls, causing you to drop the watering can in surprise, the water sloshing over your feet and onto the cobblestone around you. You lose your balance and fall backwards, landing on your butt, but before you can lecture the person who scared you, you feel two hands place themselves on each side of your waist.

“Up we go!” A familiar voice sings before hoisting you up to stand back on your own two feet. You turn around and narrow your eyes at him, placing the hand holding the empty watering can on your hip. The blue-haired boy before you smiles unabashedly, utterly pleased with himself. “Anything to save a damsel in distress!” “Yeah, I’m definitely defenseless,” You grumble sarcastically as the boy takes the watering can from you. His physique has changed over the years due to his interest in becoming a high ranking Knight of Favonius, but both his azure eyes still gleam with childlike mischief. He nudges your uninjured arm playfully.

“Aw, cheer up! You’re the toughest one-armed fighter I know!” Kaeya jests. You roll your eyes in response, biting back a smirk at his antics.

“I’m the only one-armed fighter you know.” You respond as Kaeya gently grabs your wrist and guides you to the bench where the two of you typically sit.

“Two weeks ago. What happened?” Kaeya asks, gesturing to your arm. You tilt your head, confused at his question. Surely he’s heard about it by now..? You think to yourself.

“An Abyss Mage got past Mondstadt’s outer walls, I was on break when I saw it, and I had to fight it, sir.” You explain quickly, but Kaeya simply shakes his head in response.

“No, not that! What happened in the infirmary?” His voice is teasing, but your blood can’t help but run cold at his words. Your intuition that something had happened between the time you arrived at the infirmary and before you fell asleep was correct. Much to your chagrin, you hadn’t been able to remember your actions, but apparently they were remarkable enough for the younger prince to have heard about them.

You let out a groan and rub your free hand over your face, already mortified by your actions that you had no recollection of. Kaeya lets out a laugh.

“Diluc visited you,” He explains, causing you to let out an even louder, more obnoxious groan. You lean forward on the bench, resting your elbow in your knee and cradling your forehead in your uninjured hand.

“Oh gods, what did I say?” You whined. After years of friendship with the younger prince, he had insisted you no longer be so formal with him. Honorifics slipped into your speech on rare occasions, but you generally spoke to Kaeya in the same way you would speak to your friends back home in Springvale.

Kaeya laughs at your theatrics. “Well, you weren’t very nice. You told him to, and I quote, ‘eat shit’ if he wanted to yell at you.”

You let out a noise of horror and Kaeya’s laughter at your embarrassment shakes his whole body. Glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, the younger prince is absolutely delighted in your misery at the situation at hand.

“That’s not all! You also gave him the middle finger!” Kaeya giggles, nudging you as you continue your woeful theatrics. “You didn’t even use the right finger. You were trying to give him the middle finger but you used your pointer finger!”

You want to die. Heat is rising to your face so quickly that you swear you are going to faint. Kaeya pauses as your theatrics die down as you begin to hyperventilate, panicked at the situation at hand. Not only did you tell the crown prince to eat shit, you had also attempted to give him an inflammatory gesture and managed to mess up said gesture. Your career was over, you would become a disgrace to the nation, and, at the worst, you could be thrown in jail for such disrespect to the royal family.

You were a disgrace to the royal throne you swore your life to serve.

Heaving air in and out, you sit up, trying to keep your balance and not pass out from stress. Your eyes brim with tears and Kaeya looks at you in alarm. His hand finds your back, rubbing soothing circles that do little to placate your panic.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay!” He tries to soothe over your worries. “Someone had to tell Diluc that at some point!”

You let out a choked sob, leaning over once more. “T… that doesn’t help,” You whimpered. Kaeya’s blue eyes stare at your hunched over form, his blue irises swimming with regret and distress at your current state.

“Um… my dad found it funny?” Kaeya tries once more. Your sobs only worsen, causing Kaeya to clench his teeth at his own words.

“The king even knows about my irreverent actions?” You cry and Kaeya’s stress upon seeing your own stress only worsens. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you in for a side-hug, rubbing his hand up and down on your shoulder in a calming manner. “You’re not in trouble, Diluc’s not mad… anymore, at least.”

Your crying turns into soft sniffles and Kaeya thanks Barbatos that he was able to calm you down. Wiping your tears away with the back of your hand, you let out a shaky sigh.

“I can’t believe I did that,” You breathe and Kaeya lets out a soft, reassuring chuckle.

“We all make mistakes, plus you were on some heavy medication!” He pauses as you look over at him and bites his lip slightly, as if he wants to say something more. You look at him expectantly and he lets out a soft sigh of defeat at your watery eyes pleading for him to continue. “Plus… I think Diluc kinda likes it when you yell at him.”

“You’re gross,” You whine, voice still wet with tears, but you manage out a soft laugh after your words. “No, he doesn’t.” “You’d be surprised about how he feels about you,” Kaeya teases, but you detect faint traces of sincerity and, if you focus hard enough, jealousy. Rather than dwelling on hidden meanings, you elect to take the blue-haired boy’s words at face value, nudging him back and giving him a look of faux disgust before letting out a soft giggle. He laughs and squeezes your shoulder reassuringly. “You’re so much prettier when you laugh, (Y/N)!”

You let out a soft laugh at his words, “Yeah, I’m sure I look spectacular right now.”

---

Diluc spots you from afar, recognizing your familiar figure crouched over windwheel asters in front of the knight’s chambers. He’s perusing the grounds on a routine walk as his bumbling replacement Royal Knight clambers after him in your absence. The replacement knight is lanky and nervous, filling comfortable silence with nervous chatter, despite Diluc’s best attempts to dissuade him from such actions. He’s an archer with barely enough arm strength to pull the bowstring back.

The red-eyed prince would never admit it to anyone, but he missed you. Not only did you make Diluc feel far more secure than the inept oaf that could barely keep up with him, but Diluc also missed your presence. He missed how you would speak with a slight edge to your tone, adding a dual meaning to your respectful words. Diluc missed the challenge you would provide him.

Even if he was on his deathbed, Diluc would never admit how his heart rate quickened and how heat rose to his face when you yelled at him with the disdain he always showed you. He would never admit how worried he was when you immediately passed out after doing so, blood seeping past your haphazardly applied bandages and spilling onto the floor. No, Diluc would never admit how his thoughts over the last two weeks had primarily consisted of you, even though the two of you had not yet spoken.

Diluc wasn’t sure what to make of his thoughts, nor his altered emotions when you were around. Despite the fact that his tempestuous attitude made him detest the way you were constantly on his mind, a larger part of him wished to keep you close and have you serving the throne at his side once again.

The blundering knight catches up to Diluc as the redhead’s brisk pace slows to a halt as he observes you. After an unknown amount of time, the knight clears his throat, snapping Diluc out of his reverie. The redhead watches you for a moment more. His stomach churns as he watches his younger brother approach you, hold you close, and make you laugh.

Diluc isn’t sure what this feeling that’s gnawing away at his stomach is. A part of his brain tells him that it’s obvious, but Diluc denies such obvious truths, knowing he, one of royal blood, would feel such an emotion over a mere commoner and subordinate of his. Watching you with Kaeya, however, brings an immense frustration to the forefront of Diluc’s thoughts. A scowl forms on the crown prince’s face as he whips his head to the direction of the inept fool that’s been assigned to protect him.

“Let’s go,” He snaps. The knight shakily salutes in response, his composure shaken yet again by Diluc’s sour temperament.

---

Two more weeks pass and you’re officially freed from the restrictions placed upon your duties. After passing a clearance test at the Cathedral which resulted in the destruction of multiple training dummies, you were cleared for full duty as a Royal Knight once more. You were thrilled to be free from the chains of the menial labor you had been assigned for the last month and excited to get back to work, but such feelings were also accompanied with unease. You had a pit in your stomach at the thought of going back to serve the prince that you had so blatantly deprecated.

But, nonetheless, you enter Diluc’s chambers, your typical neutral expression adorning your face. The prince looks up from his desk, slightly startled by the intrusion, but a brief smirk crosses over his face at your presence before returning to a stoic expression, almost as if he was mimicking your own. He parts his lips to speak, but before he can, you drop yourself down on one knee, genuflecting in his direction. You don’t make eye contact, electing to stare down at your knee instead.

“Please forgive my spiteful words I uttered upon our last meeting, my liege,” You request, uttering the words you had practiced many times in the mirror this morning while getting ready. “I was not in the right frame of mind.”

Diluc stares down at you, expression unreadable. The silence is nearly unbearable, suffocating you as the tendrils of embarrassment and shame swirl up your legs, around your torso, and settle on your throat before pressing down, choking you of air. You feel a flush of heat rise to your face as the seconds tick on. You’re unsure if the prince is going to speak at all, let alone forgive you, but your doubts are quelled as he clears his throat.

You look up at him to see narrowed crimson hues staring down at you sternly.

“Very well. Do not say such things ever again,” Diluc warns. You jump to your feet and salute in his direction.

“Yes, sir!” You respond and the prince lets out a huff before returning his attention to the papers on his desk once more. You move to stand watch by the door, but the prince clearing his throat once more has you turning around to look at him again.

“Oh, and (Y/N)?” Diluc questions and you brace yourself, ready for him to unload his anger upon you. However, he does no such thing. “I have a meeting at nine with some Sumerian scholars interested in Mondstadt’s alchemic discoveries. Don’t let me be late.” The redhead doesn’t look up, already having begun moving his pen across the papers in front of him once more.

“Understood, sir.” You respond as you reach your typical spot by the door. You bite back a smile as you stand guard.

---

Over the next several months, you notice major changes in Diluc’s demeanor and attitude towards you. The prince is more confident, but in a less suffocating, arrogant manner, but rather a more charming manner. He remains an introvert, but his diplomatic meetings end up with far better results due to him learning to navigate the rough tides of foreign relationships and his mastering of hollow platitudes to placate any overseas dignitaries. He’s no longer a brash and tempestuous presence in the field of international relations, but one made of falsified smiles and foreign appeasement.

For once, you look at Diluc and see not only a prince, but the rightful heir to the throne.

The change isn’t instantaneous, but for Diluc’s personality to have made such a massive change in such a short time, you realize that there must be something the prince is trying to work toward or someone he desires to impress. Despite being at his side for almost his entire day, from when he starts work in the morning to when he retires to his chambers at night, you aren’t entirely sure what his motivation is.

You figure it’s likely something his father said to him, due to their frequent meetings you aren’t present for. Even from your earliest days working as Diluc’s bodyguard, you could tell he valued his familial relationships above all else. While he often remained hot-tempered with Kaeya, his relationship with his father was amicable and one Diluc cherished. From the few times you had been in King Crepus’s presence, the king had showcased what the throne of Mond should stand for; he put the freedom of his constituents first and reigned only to ensure order and protection for the people within Mond.

Your few interactions with the king had such a positive impact on you that they, along with your father’s actions, spurred you to join the Royal Knights. You could only imagine what type of influence the king’s constant presence had on Diluc.

Most noticeably of all, however, was Diluc’s attitude towards you. He was no Kaeya in terms of charm nor friendliness, but silences between the two of you were no longer forced and neither was conversation. The crown prince was more attentive to which types of conversation seemed to genuinely interest you, as compared to forced small talk. He also understood that silence wasn’t a form of punishment, nor did it signal that he was angry.

You wonder if he changed due to your conversation at the infirmary. Diluc lectured you less, sent less scornful looks your way, and insulted your skills less frequently. The changes had been so subtle that you hadn’t noticed how Diluc had blurred the lines between being a person whom you guard only due to obligation to someone you would protect without hesitation until the two of you browse Mondstadt’s yearly winter market together.

Diluc’s carmine irises glint with the reflection of the white Christmas lights adorning the square as he peered into the windows of a bakery. He seems quietly enraptured by a miniature palace that sat in the center of the cakes and other delicacies, made out of gingerbread. As you turn to look around at everyone else, ever vigilant, you notice the prince suddenly snap his gaze away from the display and look around wide-eyed.

You begin to reach for the hilt of your sword that rests on your back, but you freeze when Diluc’s vision stabilizes on you. His stance relaxes and the redhead offers you a small smile before waving for you to come over. You drop your hand that now rests on the hilt of your blade to your side and begin to walk over, watching as Diluc stares at you in slight confusion before letting out a soft laugh.

At that moment, you realize something that fourteen-year-old you would have loathed you for saying: you would call Prince Diluc a friend.

“Have you ever had gingerbread before?” Diluc asks, turning his gaze from you to read the label underneath the castle.

You nod your head. “It’s made with um… cinnamon… cloves… not sure what else, but the gingerbread in the window’s probably crunchy and… not really sweet? It relies on the taste of the spices within it, not sugar.”

The prince looks thoughtfully at the gingerbread palace once more. “I know what gingerbread is, but do people really eat these… ornate structures?” His tone is confused, but sincere. You let out a soft laugh of amusement. The old Diluc would have interpreted it as an act of derision, but current Diluc simply awaits your answer.

“Oh, that’s a tradition to put them into houses and buildings and such, but you can also shape it into little gingerbread men. Those are my favorite! Typically the smaller decorations are eaten first, but people don’t really eat the big houses,” You elaborate, excited to talk about the desserts as you also ogle the gingerbread display. Diluc looks at you halfway through your speech and smiles softly at your warm tone, pleased to have evoked such a reaction from you.

“Wait out here,” Diluc orders and, before you can protest, the crown prince slips into the shop, the bells on its door chiming softly as he enters. You stand by the door, your gaze moving from peering through the glass at Diluc to watching the commoners walk by. Only a few moments later, the bells chime once again as Diluc exits. A small paper bag is in his hand and he opens it up.

“Hold out your hand,” He orders in a sharp tone while looking into the bag. You comply, flattening your hand and holding it in front of you. Diluc plops a small gingerbread man in your hand. “It reminded me of you.”

The cookie is a traditional knight dressed in armor and is decorated with royal purple frosting and a white sword in its left hand. You stare at it for a moment, before a wide grin breaks out on your face, shattering your aloof expression.

“Thank you,” You murmur softly. Diluc’s cheeks flush red at your praise, but you attribute such a change in his appearance to be caused by the temperature change from exiting the warm building.

---

Diluc, you have come to find, is easily distracted by storefronts. Even his stoic demeanor cannot hide the childlike awe in his eyes when he sees something interesting in a window display. He’s dragged you in and out of numerous stores after being enraptured by objects in the windows. It’s bad enough that the both of you are now carrying bags of various trinkets he’s purchased with his seemingly limitless funds. Diluc, you note, doesn’t seem to get out much.

While you enjoy the chance to shop and explore Mondstadt’s seasonal festivities, you do not enjoy the snowfall that coats your hair and uniform as you wait outside each shop, standing watch. Despite being bundled up in layers, you’re still cold from standing still for so long.

Diluc exits yet another shop and stifles a yawn. “I believe I should head back now. It’s getting late,” He mutters and you simply nod in response, following his lead as he begins to walk back to the castle. The two of you walk in silence as the chatter of Mondstadt’s civilians and the crunching of your shoes on freshly fallen snow fill the gaps.

After a few minutes of trying to hold it in, you can’t help but shiver at the cold. You feel a bit of heat rise to your face, embarrassed that a knight of your stature is shivering due to cold, and it only multiplies as Diluc suddenly stops next to you.

“Are you cold?” The redhead asks, his gaze intense.

“No,” You lie, shaking your head. His eyes narrow.

“Take my scarf,” He orders, but you shake your head once more.

“I couldn’t possibly do such a thing,” You refuse politely, but Diluc isn’t having any of it.

“You’re cold, therefore take the scarf,” His explanation is rough and laced with the typical tone of annoyance you’re all too familiar with. He begins to unwind his scarf from around his neck.

“It’s my duty to ensure your comfort,” You protest. “Therefore, you keep the scarf as you should stay warm.”

“It would make me more comfortable if you wore the scarf instead.” Diluc argues and you swear you see his eye twitch slightly. “Plus, what kind of prince would I be if I let my constituents suffer on my behalf?”

Bullseye. He knew right where to hit you, despite his irate and annoyed tone. That bastard knew to appeal to your sense of honor in order to get you to do something. Begrudgingly, you hold out your hand to take the scarf, but before you can stop him, Diluc’s stepping close to you and wrapping the scarf around your neck for you. He forms two loose loops around your neck and you can feel his breath on your face as he looks at your neck. The prince’s leather-gloved fingertips brush against your neck as he adjusts the scarf and you watch his eyes narrow slightly in concentration as he fixes the scarf.

“There,” He almost sneers upon deciding that the scarf’s placement was adequate enough. “Now was that so hard?” Without waiting for your response, the prince turns and continues walking back to the castle. You pause for a moment, flustered, before jogging after him slightly to catch up.

The two of you continue your walk in silence, but the warmth of the scarf does nothing to eliminate the chill of the blade strapped to your back, reminding you that your and Diluc’s relationship is no more than one of contractual obligation.

---

Diluc’s kind behavior lasts for about two more years. The prince, now twenty, departs Mondstadt’s capital for three weeks, without you by his side. Diluc is now under protection of the king’s guards and a squadron of the Knights of Favonius as his father accompanies him on the journey to Fontaine, meaning that you get an extended vacation from your royal duties. You visit your home in Springvale during this break, aching to get back to work as the lack of activities slowly begins to drive you mad.

Your birthday occurs within this break period and, much to your surprise, a bouquet of red carnations is delivered to your doorstep as a gift from the prince himself. Diluc had never done such a gesture before and you ignore the way your heart beats a tad bit faster as you read the note settled amidst the beautiful, deep carmine blossoms. You recognize Diluc’s penmanship instantly as you spot the words ‘Happy birthday, (Y/N).’ sprawled across the card.

You smile softly to yourself and tuck the card back into the bouquet before admiring the blossoms. Brushing your fingers over the petals with a featherlight touch, you opt to set the vase on your dining room table rather than admire it for much longer. You’re certain a bouquet such flowers, considered exotic in Mondstadt, costs more than double your paycheck. You do not wish to dwell on such a thought for too long.

When your mother arrives home later that night, she pops her head into your room to say hello, a knowing smirk gracing her features.

“Who sent the flowers?” She asks in an amused tone as you bookmark the page of the book in your hands and close it in order to pay full attention to her. “Are you dating someone that I don’t know about?”

“Yuck, that’s weird,” You let out a soft laugh. “No, they were sent by the prince for my birthday.”

“Prince Diluc or Prince Kaeya?” Your mother asks, a mixture of surprise and concern in her voice.

“Prince Diluc,” You clarify, raising your eyebrows at her tone. “Why?”

“Red carnations have an… interesting meaning,” Your mother, a florist, explains. “...Interesting birthday gift.” You shrug off her implication and open up your book again, not wanting to hear your mother’s crazy theories about meanings of the flower bouquet.

“He probably just picked them because he likes the color red. Don’t sweat it too much,” You say absentmindedly, the pages of your book already drawing you back into reading. Your mother giggles, excusing herself from the conversation as she trots down the hallway.

For your own sanity, you choose not to dwell on her words. You planned to thank Diluc for his kindness

---

The nation is in mourning.

Diluc had returned last night, bloodied and traumatized, from his trip to Fontaine. Alongside of him, only half of the Royal Knight and Knight of Favonius combined unit that accompanied the royal family returned as well. The most notable absence, however, was King Crepus himself. Rumors immediately spread like wildfire, ranging from the idea of Diluc having killed the king to seize the throne all the way to a Fatui attack on the royal family. You’re doubtful that such outlandish notions are true.

The official declaration the following day proves you to be correct; the palace announces that the royal caravan had been attacked by a dragon, resulting in King Crepus’ death, the death of seven Royal Knights, and the death of three Knights of Favonius. Even the typically lively center of Springvale is no louder than a quiet whisper the following day as the nation grieves the loss of its leader and loyal knights.

Your heart hurts for both of the princes, knowing how difficult it is to lose a parent. You can only imagine how much harder it is when their next moves and responses to their father’s death will only become fodder for royal gossip. The throne, which you had sworn to protect, was now vacant, but such an event had been out of your hands. You hadn’t been allowed to accompany the royal family on their journey and, without a vision, you would have likely been killed if you had gone anyways.

However, upon the palace’s announcement of the king’s death, it was also announced that Prince Diluc would not immediately be crowned due to “unforeseen stipulations” King Crepus had left behind in his will. This information, of course, immediately became gossip amongst the townsfolk, ranging from Diluc needing to find a bride before marrying to ideas that Diluc needed to obtain an Anemo vision before being allowed to lead the nation. You were wary about such ideas and figured Diluc had prepared for whatever requirements his father had left for him.

Three days after the death of King Crepus, each Royal Knight, including yourself, receives orders that they no longer work at the palace. Ordo Favonius takes over these claims, allowing any Royal Knight to join their ranks. You want to believe that Diluc wouldn’t just shut you out like this, but you know better. Diluc never wanted any Royal Knights by his side and, after his father’s death due to a lack of adequate knights, certainly wouldn’t want a visionless personal guard. You had almost died fighting an Abyss Mage, for archon’s sake. How would you be able to protect Diluc from a dragon?

The death of his father meant the end of your contract with the prince. You knew this would happen one day. You ignore the feelings of sadness that blossom in your chest at such a thought, contributing them to the (hopefully) temporary end of the Royal Knights as an organization. Your sadness is not over your lack of connection with the elder prince, you tell yourself, but rather grief over the career path you had sworn to follow upon finishing training.

Once Diluc sets his mind to something, it’s almost impossible to sway him from such thoughts. Therefore, ignoring the clenching of your heart, you sign away your future to the Knights of Favonius and agree to participate in a training assessment in order to determine your new title and which sector you would join the ranks of within Ordo Favonius.

Your only regret about the time with the Knights is that you did not have a chance to say goodbye to either prince.

---

A week later, you receive your placement within the Knights of Favonius. Despite your lack of expertise in such an area, you had been appointed to the Cavalry Unit within the Knights of Favonius ranks. You weren’t unfamiliar with a horse; you had scored highly on your cavalry usage exams in training. However, you hadn’t ridden one since your appointment to the Royal Knights.

Upon your arrival to your first day of your new position, you learned you weren’t the only new face within the unit. Five other Royal Knights had been placed within the Cavalry Unit as well. Most shocking of all, however, was the the appointment of a new Cavalry Captain, especially since the knight chosen for the position was none other than Prince Kaeya himself.

The blue-haired prince, now sporting an eyepatch and a cryo vision, looked equally as confused to see you as you were to see him. Rather than sporting his typical jovial attitude, he simply nodded his acknowledgement of your presence. Kaeya was your superior now, after all, meaning he couldn’t showcase favoritism. The prince announced a few changes to the cavalry unit. First, you were to address Kaeya as ‘captain’ and not ‘prince’. Second, the cavalry unit would focus on securing Mondstadt’s perimeter, along with the perimeter of any outer villages as needed. Thirdly, the point Kaeya elaborated the least on, there was to be no talk of the royal family unless essential to the tasks at hand.

As he finishes his speech, you salute and chant your understanding with your new comrades. You can’t help but wonder why Kaeya now wears said eyepatch and why he has a new vision. Despite you having seen him a month ago, the blue-eyed boy now seems lightyears away from you, as if he was sand falling through the cracks of your hands without you even realizing.

---

Two years pass and, due to your work ethic in comparison to other Cavalry Unit members, you ascend in the ranks of your unit. Being one of the top five members of the thirty member unit meant that you and Kaeya spent more time together. You slowly watched as the blue-haired man began to revert to the boy he once was, but he never fully regressed to his childlike state. For starters, Kaeya is far more secretive than he used to be, electing to use little white lies to avoid conflict and any deep, meaningful conversations. There is a profound sadness that mars his powerful stature that wasn’t there before.

In the words he does exchange with you, his brother is never mentioned. The thought of bringing such a topic up to Kaeya makes your tongue heavy, the words remaining unspoken. Instead, Kaeya elects to talk about easily digestible topics in brief phases, such as small talk about the weather, unimportant chatter about military gossip, and hushed conversations about current trends in Mondstadt.

Kaeya has plunged himself into a self-imposed exile within the icy waters of his mind and you lack the proper equipment to save him. You can only watch as he disappears into the salty blue depths of anguish from the safety of the shore, unsure how to lend a helping hand. You are crafted from the sharp blades of swords, untrained in the studies of alchemical healing.

The blue-haired prince’s spirits only rise in the spirits of others, namely the ones sold by Angel’s Share. Every Friday night, as a mandatory “team bonding” activity, Kaeya and the four other highest ranking members of the Cavalry Unit, which unfortunately includes you, collectively go to Angel’s Share and get absolutely wasted, making blubbering fools of themselves. Tonight, just like every other Friday night, you can tell when Kaeya’s on his third drink as he begins to ramble about the history of Angel’s Share. He noisily explains how Angel’s Share is the legendary bar founded by the first King of Mondstadt before he had obtained the throne. During this time period, you slip a few spare mora to the poor waitress having to deal with your rowdy group who will inevitably throw the bill of tonight’s drunken activities on the backs of taxpayers.

You spend your evening nursing a glass of grape juice, wary eyes darting around the room in an analytical habit you had picked up from your job years prior. Old habits die hard after all. You watch as the first two fellow unit members excuse themselves the bar, deciding to stumble out before they could completely disgrace themselves.

It isn’t until Kaeya’s sixth glass of Death After Noon that the rest of the unit calls it quits, wobbling their way back home. One glance at the prince has you signaling to the bartender to cut the prince’s supply off. You stand up and walk over to Kaeya, who suddenly looks elated that you’re here.

“(Y/N)! My favorite!” Kaeya exclaims from his seat, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug and forcing you to rest your hand on the table for balance. “You came for my birthday party!”

“It’s not your birthday, Captain,” You respond. Your heart clenches at his carefree tone, reminded of your teenage years with the boy. The smell of his alcohol-laden breath dispels such naively hopeful notions and you push yourself out of his loosened grip. “Alright, it’s time to go home.”

“Home?” Kaeya asks, his revealed iris glistening with confusion. “Why? It’s not fun there… the party’s here!” The prince is pliable as you hoist him up and swing his arm around your shoulder, clutching onto his waist for support. Archons, the prince was heavy. You take a small step and, despite the alcohol fuzzing his brain, Kaeya seems to understand and stumbles alongside of you.

Once again, you are no more than a glorified babysitter.

You fish the bag of mora Kaeya brought with him out of his back pocket and the prince giggles as you unceremoniously toss the bag out on the table and drag him out of the bar. The two of you walk in silence for a few minutes before Kaeya begins to chant your name over and over. Despite your annoyance, you decide to indulge him.

“What.” Your words lack any form of sincerity, embittered with the situation at hand. Kaeya reaches over and pokes your cheek with a free hand.

“I miss you, y’know?” Kaeya croons, before he smiles with watery eyes. “All the time. You’re always on my mind.”

Oh Barbatos, here we go, you think. You had encountered the prince while intoxicated numerous times before, but never before this had he directed his sappiness in your direction.

“Y’know why?” He teases, slurring his words slightly. You continue to trudge on in silence, shifting him slightly to try to make it easier to carry him along. Kaeya frowns at your silence. “Guess why!” His words are a demand and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Any chivalrous respect you had for Prince Kaeya was now absolutely demolished, due to both his public intoxication and the comforting fact that he wouldn’t remember any of this conversation in the morning.

“Why?” You ask unenthusiastically, knowing he won’t leave you alone until you do so.

“Because I’m in love with you, silly! I’ve been in love with you since we were sixteen,” At his confession, you almost drop him. Your blood runs cold, but you trudge on nonetheless. An oath to protect the royal family persists even if one drunkenly confesses their love to you. Your heart clenches with pain for Kaeya, wishing you could have realized his feelings sooner. Maybe it would have alleviated some of the pain he carries each day and tries to wash away through copious amounts of liquor.

He burps loudly and lets out a bitter laugh. “You’re so… so pretty. And strong! But… he fancied you first! I can’t compete…” The man trails off, seemingly losing track of what he’s saying, stumbling through his words. “I can’t compete with royal blood.”

Your hand slips off his waist and the two of you are sent tumbling into the ground as Kaeya’s arm around your shoulder drags you down with him.

---

Your legs are shaking from exertion as you guide Kaeya through the darkened hallways of the castle, softly shushing him and pulling him closer to you each time he tries to twist away from your grip to cause drunken havoc on the hallway decorations. His free hand trails across the stone walls as he giggles at their texture, having forgotten all about his woeful, self-pitying cries from earlier. As you round the corner to enter the hallway consisting of the chambers of both princes, Kaeya’s quiet amusement with the ornate tapestries that adorn the walls stops.

“We’re home!” Kaeya yells and you immediately shush him, absolutely terrified of waking up a certain redhead.

The corridor reeks of familiarity, nearly suffocating you with nostalgia for simpler, happier times. The decorations have barely changed, aside from a new vase by the door to Kaeya’s room.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you around here, (Y/N)!” Kaeya cheers and you shush him once more, silently pleading with Barbatos to shut the blue-haired prince up. If anyone nearby was unaware of your disgraceful return to the palace grounds, they certainly knew now. His voice drops in volume a bit, still far too loud for this time of night, but better than his raucous hollering as the two of you approach his door. "Would you like to come in, my fair lady? I know many ways to pleasure a woman."

You’ve sacrificed every Friday night for far too long for Prince Kaeya. You love him while he’s sober, but now? You absolutely despise his drunken antics.

"The only pleasure I'll get tonight is finally being able to get rid of your drunken ass," you finally snap, nearly dropping Kaeya once more in mortification at your own words. You couldn't speak to a prince so callously, especially when you were stone-cold sober.

Kaeya pauses before throwing himself into a fit of drunken laughter. "You're so cute but you're so mean, (Y/N)!"

You ignore his antics, realizing the best course of action is to get the rowdy prince in his room where he can scream to his heart’s content. You turn the knob of the door and shove Kaeya into the room, causing him to let out a nervous giggle.

“You’re coming in?” He exclaims and lets out a gasp of surprise. “But wait, I’m shy!” He throws his hand dramatically to his forehead, pretending to faint as the back of his palm lightly brushes it. You let out a loud grunt as the dumb bastard son of a bitch motherfucker drops the entirety of his weight on you. Unable to support him any longer, the prince falls to the ground next to you and laughs. You finally understand why the young bartender at Cat’s Tail hates drunk people so much.

“Captain, get up,” You order, exhaustion creeping into your tone. You prod his stomach lightly with your foot as the drunken prince lets out a groan in response. He closes his eye, ready to fall asleep on the ground, but you manage to muster the last of your strength to pick him up bridal-style. After you rush over to his bed, you unceremoniously drop him on his plush mattress.

Your job is now done. You could strip his clothing down to make him more comfortable while sleeping, but you’re not sure if you can muster the energy to do so. Such an action is beyond the new jurisdiction of your duties as a Knight of Favonius. Plus, you’re fairly sure you’d never be able to look Kaeya in the eye again if you did do such a thing.

“Wait, my loyal knight,” Kaeya drunkenly slurs as you turn to leave his chambers. You bite back a sigh of defeat and turn to look at him with a blank expression. Internally, you’re trying to calm yourself down, utterly frustrated with the situation at hand. “Come here.”

When a prince calls for you, you unfortunately have to listen. You trudge over to Kaeya and place a hand on your hip, looking down at him. The prince shuffles around on his bed as he clumsily sits up, leaning on the headboard for support. You open your mouth to ask him what he needs, but before you can utter the words, Kaeya heaves forward and disperses the contents of his stomach all over your uniform before falling back into his pillows, passed out.

You are speechless as you look down at your clothing, now stained with the deep red-purple hues of the copious amounts of wine Kaeya had ingested earlier in the evening. Biting back the urge to throw up in return, especially as you feel the fabric of your clothes begin to dampen against your skin. You quickly ensure the prince is asleep before quite literally tearing off your soiled pants in disgust.

Despite the oath of fealty that bound you to your job, you briefly considered threatening to quit after tonight unless you got a raise. Now, you were pantless and soon-to-be shirtless due to the sheer incapability of being able to handle somebody else’s body fluids against your skin. Your eyes darted over to Kaeya’s closet and a lightbulb went off in your head.

---

You had taken one of the younger prince’s spare uniforms in his closet and left him a nicely written note explaining the situation. Rather than saying that he threw up on you, you simply wrote that your outfit had been torn while carrying him back to the palace. Some facts, you believed, were best left as secrets. The fabric bunched over your shoulders as you adjusted it to the best of your capabilities, trying to get the odd size to fit your figure properly as you silently cursed Kaeya for having such broad shoulders.

Wrapping your now shredded and sullied uniform into a ball and tucking it under your arm, you made sure Kaeya was asleep once more before stealthily sneaking your way to the door. In a way, you felt like Robin Hood, stealing from the rich to give to the poor, except the poor only consisted of yourself. It is not stealing if you give the uniform back upon request, you tell yourself as you quietly creak open the door. As you make your escape, you turn to face the door as you close it, gently pulling it towards you and holding onto the doorknob to ensure that the noise of the door settling into place would be quiet as possible.

The last thing you wanted was for a drunken Kaeya to wake back up and force you to read him a bedtime story. As the door settles into place, you let out a sigh of relief, only to hear someone clear their throat behind you. Your eyes widen in humiliation and fear and your shoulders cringe upwards as you stare at the door in front of you. Scratch that, this was the last thing you wanted. Rather than let it become any more awkward, you let out a soft breath and settle your expression into your typical stoic one before whirling around to face your fate.

In this instance, your fate is for your eyes to meet the familiar crimson-hued ones that you had not seen in years. Dressed in an ornate, stealthy black and white outfit, the man looks far older than when you had last seen him, as if the last two years had been incredibly hard on him. You had no doubt that they were. You watch as his eyes widen in both recognition and surprise as you fix your posture. A flash of hurt crosses his expression before his expression mimics your own neutral one and the two of you simply stare at each other for a few moments, unsure of what to make of the conversation.

You notice Diluc’s claymore is strapped to his back and he has a fresh bruise forming on his cheekbone. You don’t dare ask what happened to him. It’s no longer your place to worry over him, but you can’t help it as his irises glimmer with sadness upon seeing you. Despite his neutral face, his eyes shine with emotion, as if he’s heartbroken to see you.

“Uh, hello, sir,” You greet, breaking the silence as you try to gather your composure. You offer him a salute, trying your best to keep your arm from shaking in both anxiety and exhaustion.

“Hello..” Diluc echoes absentmindedly, as if his mind is elsewhere. He quickly seems to recollect his bearings as his eyes scan you up and down. “Did you two have a fun night?”

His tone is unreadable and, if coming from anyone else, you would assume his words to be a joke. You let out a nervous laugh and Diluc’s eyebrows raise slightly at the uncharacteristic noise. A gut feeling tells you to choose your next words carefully. Upon your silence, Diluc’s eyes narrow slightly.

“You are wearing his garments. It does not take a genius to figure out what the two of you were doing together,” He explains, his voice devoid of emotion. A wave of heat rises to your cheeks and you are thankful for the low hallway lighting as it helps hide your embarrassment.

“Oh, um…” You trail off, breaking eye contact with the redhead as you look down at your outfit. “It’s not like that. He… he threw up on me.” Your words are unconvincing. Despite you knowing the truth, your nerves make it sound as if you’re pulling lies out of thin air to cover yourself. Diluc, of course, notices such a thing as he echoes your words.

“...He threw up on you?” The elder prince repeats, disbelief coating his words as he narrows his eyes at you.

“Yes, my prince,” You confirm. Diluc seems unsettled by your verbal formalities, but you carry on nonetheless. “He indulged in a few… too many drinks at Angel’s Share. As his subordinate, I felt as if it was in my duties to bring him back to the palace. He then proceeded to… release the contents of his stomach onto my uniform. If you do not believe my words, sir, you can… look at the uniform…” You hold out the balled up uniform in front of you and the stench alone is enough to make Prince Diluc’s nose scrunch up.

“I believe you, (Y/N).” He responds after a moment of contemplation. Diluc goes quiet once more, but you still stand at the ready, not having been dismissed from the conversation. “How… how often does this happen?”

Diluc’s gaze tears away from you. He looks nervous to be asking such a question. You’re not quite sure what he’s implying with his seemingly loaded question. “If I may request for you to do so, could you please clarify your query, my prince?” You ask as his stoic expression returns and he stands up straight, having collected his thoughts.

“How often does Kaeya inconvenience you with his immature drunkenness?” Diluc asks, rubbing his hand over his jaw in exasperation. It’s unclear as to whether he’s exasperated with Kaeya or with you. Diluc’s eyebrows furrow in thought as he awaits your answer.

You think your answer over. Lying to the king-to-be definitely wouldn’t be ideal, but it would help Kaeya. You weren’t sure what was going on with Kaeya, but you knew he was hurting. The blue-haired boy you once knew would have turned his nose up at alcohol. Now, he was damaged enough to have turned to it as a coping mechanism. You are no fool; you see the way Kaeya cringes if there are too many candles lighting up the room each morning.

However, Diluc clearly cared enough about the situation to ask and a part of you was chanting to throw Kaeya under the bus for throwing up on you. You would just be issued another uniform and it was not as if you did not have a spare one in your closet. Plus, Kaeya’s problem was spiraling out of control.

“Once a week,” You answer. “Every Friday. Normally, the prince can make it back by himself, but I am typically relegated to being the sober official of the Knights of Favonius in fear that they’ll trash the place without any supervision.”

Diluc lets out a sigh. He turns around and begins to move back around. “I’ll see to it that such behavior of his is fixed. Dismissed.” The prince waves you off with a dismissive hand and you watch as he enters his chambers, the door closing softly behind him. In return, you walk out of the palace with your head held high, rather pleased with the way the conversation went considering the circumstances Diluc had found you in.

A small part of your heart twists at such an uneventful reunion, as if you had expected something more. You shake your head to try to eliminate such thoughts. You had merely been Prince Diluc’s subordinate, nothing more. Taking the compromising position Diluc had found you in, he had been more than fair to hear your explanation out and to even go so far as to offer to assist you with your troubles. It was your duty to serve the throne and not his duty to serve you, so why did part of you want more?

---

Diluc's definition of fixing Kaeya's behavior is, in fact, not to speak to kaeya about his behavior. Kaeya is none the wiser about his own actions as well, simply issuing a new uniform and a muttered apology about how you had to deal with his behavior. Unfortunately, you aren’t off the hook for the typical Friday night rendezvous at Angel’s Share. You begin to wonder if Diluc had forgotten his words to you as everything seems to be returning to normal. In fact, he probably didn’t care. He just said that to get you off his back, you tell yourself. It was probably too much of a nuisance to readjust Kaeya’s behavior, especially when Kaeya was so far up in the Ordo Favonius’s hierarchy of soldiers.

A visionless soldier like you was dispensable, but a strong prince with a cryo vision was not. Therefore, it only made sense for the Knights and Diluc to prioritize Kaeya’s comfort over your own.

The following Friday rolls around and you finally encounter your first change. As you arrive to early morning training, Kaeya tells you that the Acting Grand Master, Jean, wishes to speak with you. Having given up on Diluc enacting any possible changes to your regiment, you’re baffled as Jean hands you a set of new orders. Confusion is written on her face as well.

“You’re the only one with new orders,” Jean had told you. You weren’t sure if she was supposed to tell you that, but you figured she hoped you would have some explanation. “Especially orders as… odd as these.”

Her words make you actually read the piece of paper in your hands, rather than respectfully waiting until you left to do so.

“Oh,” The word tumbles out of your lips before you can stop it as you gape at the paper like a fish. You have been ordered, directly from the desk of King-to-be Diluc Ragnvindr, to return to the palace to be the elder prince’s royal bodyguard once more. You meet Jean’s expectant gaze with a look of confusion.

“If I may be so brave as to ask, do you know why you have been given such orders? Prince Diluc has been kind of… avoidant when it comes to the Knights as of late.” Jean asks. Her voice is kind like always, but you note a hint of curiosity within it. You can’t help her for being nosy.

“I was his bodyguard once before but..?” You shrug, not really knowing the answer. “He found me last week after Prince Kaeya threw up on me, but I doubt such a thing would have led to such a drastic change.”

Jean’s eyes light up in faint recognition and she softly smiles. “Oh, you were the bodyguard? That makes a bit more sense…” She trails off, lost in thought. “Hm, but such a rearrangement would only happen if he was preparing to… Never mind that, you said Prince Kaeya vomited? On you?”

You feel heat rise up to your cheeks as you nod. “Prince Kaeya is… not quite aware that he performed such… actions while intoxicated, so I would appreciate it if you could keep this a secret between us.”

The Acting Grand Master’s eyes shine with amusement and she lets out a soft, chime-like laugh. “Of course. Your secret is safe with me.”

You begin to walk out of Jean’s office, but freeze in your tracks. “I have one more question, if you don’t mind me asking,” You say. Jean nods for you to continue. “Why did Diluc choose me to be his bodyguard and not somebody with a vision?”

Jean lets out a melodic giggle, her blonde ponytail shaking as she does so. “I have my guesses, but I believe that’s only something the prince himself can answer.”

You nod in response, looking back down at your orders. “Thank you, Acting Grand Master.”

---

“You’re late,” A familiar voice admonishes you as you enter the throne room of the palace. It is a familiar room you had long since given up hope on ever seeing again, with gleaming gold and green accents adorning its stained glass windows. The room holds an intimidating yet freeing aura, but in your eyes, the most threatening thing in the ornate hall is not the gilded throne nor the massive marble statue of Barbatos, but rather Prince Diluc, who stands at the bottom of the steps that lead up to the throne.

Diluc adjusts his black gloves, ones you hadn’t seen him wear before, as he awaits for you to meet him in the center of the room. The click of your uniform’s boots against the tile and the soft clinking of your sheathed sword against your belt fills the room, reverberating through the open space as the sounds fill the silent void between you and Diluc.

“My apologies, my prince,” You state, bowing in respect. Diluc stares at you with an unreadable expression.

“You always were the type for formalities,” He muses almost wistfully, but catches himself and clears his throat. “Nonetheless, such impropriety will not be viewed upon well in the future.”

You stand up straight and salute him. “Understood, sir.”

Amusement dances in Diluc’s carmine irises as your gesture. “Welcome back, (Y/N).” He says, holding out a hand for you to shake. You shake his hand firmly, appreciative to see his amiability had not disappeared in your absence. As you drop his hand, Diluc seems to sense the unspoken question that rests on your tongue.

“There are no other Royal Knights yet. I do not trust any other knights to be capable of doing their jobs,” Diluc explains briefly before moving past you and out of the throne room, beckoning for you to follow. You fall in line alongside him, listening as he details your duties. For a moment, you’re seventeen and naive again, wondering what happened to the previous impression you had of the prince.

---

Two months pass and, in many ways, it's as if you had never left. Yet, the man you are designated to guard is more reserved with those around him, but the bluntness with his emotions remains. If Diluc isn’t happy with a situation, he’s not one to hide it, except for the sake of diplomacy. Despite not sharing blood with his brother, the two of them hold the same sadness in their shoulders when no one is watching, burdened by the secrets of the world. You stare at Diluc far more often than you do his younger brother, justifying such actions with your duties in an attempt to ignore the fact that you find the elder prince easy on the eyes.

Diluc looks at you too. When your duty is to observe, you tend to pick up on things quickly, especially the long glances Diluc sends your way when your attention is elsewhere. Your thoughts often consist of the secrets Kaeya had divulged to you in his drunken state, but you shove such nonsense out of your head. Kaeya had no place to speak on Diluc’s behalf and you determined that he was likely only projecting his own insecurities on Diluc. A selfish part of you still yearned for Kaeya’s words to be true each time you would notice the elder prince’s gaze to be upon you, but your duty prevailed over all. Unable to pinpoint why you felt this way, you would simply stare straight ahead, acting oblivious to Diluc’s gaze.

The distance between the two of you closes, both physically and emotionally. Diluc stays close enough to you that your elbows brush against each other while walking and you contribute such actions to Diluc being nervous after his father’s death. He’s much more touchy, reaching out to you with subtle gestures to make sure you’re near, rather than verbally reassuring your distance. If the two of you are outside the palace grounds and the prince is distracted by something, he’ll reach out to ensure that you’re still close.

If you aren’t nearby, Diluc will snap out of whatever daze he’s in and look around frantically for you, as if you had disappeared into thin air. The sheer panic in his eyes has taught you to stay close to him.

Diluc values your opinion. Previously, when he would have suffered in silence, the two of you have small conversations about issues he may be facing in his life, such as how to deal with a petulant Fontaine diplomat who doesn’t know how to take the word “no” as an answer. Diluc enjoys the new perspective you bring to the table, but he doesn’t let you in much farther. For his heaviest burdens, Diluc elects to keep to himself.

For that reason, you do not ask about his brother. You only provide your condolences on the day of his father’s death and make yourself available if he needs you.

---

Six months into your new appointment under Diluc, you finally gather the courage to ask a question you have desired to ask since your first day. You bite your lip slightly as you drop your gaze from guarding the door and instead flicker your gaze over to Diluc, who is sitting in a red velvet armchair by the crackling fireplace. The two of you are within the spacious area of his father’s study, soon to be his own, but such a room is still rather unfamiliar to you. The unknown territory of the room pushes you to move the unknown territory of the question you desire to ask.

“Um, sir?” You ask, uncharacteristically nervous. Diluc’s eyes immediately break away from the pages of his book, startled by you speaking. Normally, Diluc was the one to initiate conversation.

“Yes, (Y/N)?” He asks patiently and you feel heat rise to your face once more. Why are you flustered? you ask yourself as Diluc gazes at you intensely, awaiting your words with earnest.

“Apologies if I’m… overstepping by asking,” You begin and a flash of worry briefly crosses the prince’s face before he raises his eyebrows in intrigue. “But… why have you not ascended to the throne yet?”

The prince flushes a deep scarlet. He fumbles slightly with the book in his hands and looks down at it nervously. Such bashfulness is uncharacteristic of him, but then again, being so forthright was abnormal for you. Had you overstepped boundaries? Nervousness begins to claw at your stomach and climb up your throat, but the feelings are quickly quelled as Diluc clears his throat and smiles softly down at his book, trying to gather his bearings before responding.

The prince looks at you, but fails to make eye contact. “My father was a bit… peculiar in the guidelines I must follow in order to become king.” His fingers tap lightly on the cover of his book as he lets out a soft sigh, clearly unnerved by your question, but not wanting to make much of it. The prince is now twenty-three. Surely you could not have been the first person to ask him such a question?

“Oh,” You respond quickly. “I apologize if I overstepped any boundaries. Thank you for your answer, my prince.” A stoic expression quickly plasters itself on your face as you retreat back into yourself and Diluc’s eyebrows furrow at your reaction.

“It was not a bothersome question, just one I… had not been expecting, that’s all,” Diluc says, reading directly into the way you had closed yourself off. He notices the way your posture relaxes at such a statement and his eyes soften. “A few others are aware of the stipulations, so there is no such way I can circumvent them.”

“Ah,” You murmur before speaking once more. “Are the conditions to become king difficult?”

Diluc finally meets your eyes, a wistful look on his face. “They aren’t. I am just… not quite sure if the timing is right or how to broach the subject of them.” His voice is barely above a low rumble, but you hear him perfectly.

Your heart clenches at his words. You don’t know why.

---

Diluc’s twenty-fourth birthday rolls around and, when compared to every prior birthday of his in the past, the palace is ablaze with life. Mond’s economy had taken a slight downturn in its luxury goods market and Diluc had agreed to help bolster the industry by hosting a diplomatic birthday of sorts. Invite the richest people within Teyvat to explore Mondstadt and all its palace has to offer, conveniently place luxury goods within the vicinity, and the markets for said items are guaranteed to increase in demand. Diluc had explained all of this to you, including going in depth on the economics, and ordered you to put together a temporary unit of knights to serve as security at the party.

Such merriment and festivities would not lead to joy for you, but rather more work hours and stress. Assembling a team of competent enough fighters was difficult enough. Many within the Knights of Favonius were kind, but easily influenced, meaning that they were untrustworthy to leave within the realms of foreign dignitaries and prying eyes. Ultimately, you had settled on a trustworthy team of twenty core knights, all assigned to different positions within the ballroom. Some were framed as servers, some were framed as partygoers, and others would simply be required to wear their knight uniforms and guard the entrances and exits.

Despite security being a massive event, the biggest outlier was not the people who would be attending the party, but outsiders wishing to take advantage of such important people congregated in a single event. For that reason, all other knights were stationed within other parts of the palace and around its perimeter, in order to secure the area for the party. You weren’t too worried about the people inside as any foul moves would lead to massive geopolitical repercussions against any evildoers.

As for you, you were assigned to be Diluc’s right-hand knight, guarding his side at the party. While you were always ready to perform your assigned duty, you couldn’t help but wish you had door duty, as such a position would not require the diplomatic ass-kissing you were obligated to perform.

Now, as you stood at Diluc’s side near the center of the room, you weren’t sure what to make of the situation. The prince was effortlessly calming and smooth in his conversations with potentially hostile foreign dignitaries. Hell, he was even being respectful to the Fatui, even though you knew he likely wanted to ram his head through a wall speaking to the sleazy minions of the Tsaritsa.

What you hadn’t expected, however, were the wine trays floating throughout the room. You and Diluc were both aware to only take appetizers and drinks alike from a specific server, not wanting the elder prince or you, the head of security for the event, to have contaminated food. However, as Diluc drank his third glass of wine, you were beginning to wonder if you would be able to keep up. Finishing off your second, you smiled politely at the server and politely declined a second glass, ignoring the look of confusion Diluc sent your way. You already felt tipsy. The last thing you wanted was to be unable to do your job.

“Ah, Prince Diluc!” A vaguely familiar voice calls from behind you and Diluc the moment Diluc finishes speaking with a diplomat from Natlan. How do I know that voice? You ask yourself before feeling your thoughts swim a bit due to the alcohol. You silently cursed yourself for accepting the drinks at all, but when the first round of drinks had appeared, Diluc himself had taken one for you. How could you have said no to a request from your prince?

You and Diluc both turn around to see the intruder and you recognize him immediately. Dottore, one of the eleven Fatui Harbingers, stood before you and Diluc, a wide grin on his face. Immediately suppressing a groan and forcing your expression to stay neutral, you silently curse the fact that Harbingers made it on the guest list, especially one as irritating as Dottore. At his best, the man was an arrogant asshat. At his worst, Dottore was downright psychopathic with little regard for the people around him. You knew Diluc was aware of such things, but the prince had to stomach such disdain for the harbinger and at least attempt for a polite conversation.

“This is quite a lovely party,” Dottore compliments, but such praise from him is only worth about as far as you can throw it. “Mond is quite a prosperous nation.”

Your gaze flickers between Dottore and Diluc as they exchange meaningless pleasantries. You lose track of their conversation, electing to scan the room (and watch Dottore) for any potential threats or foul moves. However, you’re quickly snapped back to the conversation as Dottore’s attention turns to you, his masked red eyes boring into yours.

“You are the prince’s security detail?” Dottore’s words are less of a question and more of a statement, as if he already knows the answer. You avoid glancing at Diluc and instead meet Dottore’s gaze straight on and hold out your hand.

“Knight (Y/N), sir.” You respond and Dottore laughs crookedly while shaking your hand with a grip far too aggressive for your liking.

“Ah, aren’t you an… interesting specimen,” Much to your behest, Dottore takes your hand in his own gloved one and looks at it, as if he’s inspecting you. “You are his only personal knight at this event yet you are visionless… Quite an intriguing move for a prince who flaunts his so proudly.”

Your eyes instinctively move to look at Diluc, whose brows are furrowed and eyes glistening with anger at the situation unfolding. Diluc clears his throat and immediately returns his expression to one of neutrality as he realizes your gaze is now upon him. “Dottore, are you not one to believe that humanity is more than their visions?”

Dottore drops your hand unceremoniously and you quickly retract it to your side in fear that such an event happens again. He chuckles at Diluc’s words and turns to look at the prince once more. “Of course. I just simply never took you as the type to share my beliefs.”

Despite neither of them owning an Electro vision, the air between the two men crackles with energy. Dottore grins as Diluc glowers, eager to see if the refined prince’s composure shatters. The Harbinger knows he’s pinpointed Diluc’s weak spot, so rather than continuing the rather unamusing staring contest, Dottore’s gaze returns to you once more. He casts you a saccharine smile, dripping with insecurity, as he leans in close to you.

“I must believe you have some tricks up your sleeve. I look forward to seeing what they are,” The Harbinger’s tone drops to a low, sultry one as Dottore’s hot breath fans over your face, reeking of the odd combination of mint and wine. His words are not an expectation, but rather a promise. After a second more of leering at you, Dottore is sensible enough to realize Diluc’s limited patience is waning, so he takes a step back and stands up straight. “Nonetheless, I must make my exit now. Prince Diluc, as nice as it was to speak with you, I understand your wish not to share your toys.”

Just as quickly as he had appeared, the Harbinger disappears into the crowd. You look over at the prince standing near you. He takes a sidestep closer to you and for a split second, you’re reminded of the Prince Diluc you once knew, the one who could barely contain his anger and derision and took such feelings out on his subordinates verbally. The contempt Diluc feels for the situation that just unfolded is written all over his face, but he quickly gathers his composure. Knowing him well enough, you can sense the irritation radiating off him in waves, but you dare not comment on it.

Before another diplomat can intervene, Diluc leans in close to you, voice no more than a low whisper. “Dottore is up to something.”

---

Diluc, in his typical stubborn nature, refuses to let the Dottore situation go. Two hours afterwards, long after his mood had returned to normal, Diluc is excusing himself to use the bathroom, signaling for you to follow him. However, the elder prince remains silent as the two of you walk past the bathroom and into the chambers that had been converted to house foreign dignitaries who would stay the night and leave in the morning. The prince glances up and down the hallway frantically, making sure nobody is following. His pace is hurried, as if he’s looking for something.

You’re smart enough to realize Diluc’s only silent when he desires for others to be as well, but the two of you have been walking long enough that you part your lips to speak. Before you can utter the words, Diluc is opening the door closest to the two of you.

“Here,” He mutters and before you can follow, the prince grabs your arm and pulls you in after him, immediately letting you go afterwards. You were utterly baffled as to what room the two of you were even in, considering you had barely been in this part of the palace before. “Dottore’s room.” Diluc explains.

That’s a shitty explanation, you think. With the alcohol in your system, you are spurred to question his decisions, something you never would dare to do sober.

“With all due respect, sir, why are we raiding Dottore’s room?” You state as Diluc crouches down to look underneath Dottore’s bed. You silently question why that’s the first place the prince bothers looking, rather than looking in a more normal place, such as Dottore’s desk drawers or the suitcases lined against the wall.

Diluc lets out a huff of air at your words, but doesn’t admonish you for them. “He’s up to something,” Diluc mutters absentmindedly.

“I know he’s a suspicious character and he’s Fatui, but all he did was disrespect you with his words. Does that really mean he’s up to something?” You ask and Diluc pauses through rifling through the limited possessions the Harbinger had brought to Mondstadt. Still crouched down, the prince turns to look at you with an expression of confusion at your words.

“You aren’t normally like this,” Diluc states plainly and you feel your face heat up in embarrassment. He squints his eyes in an attempt to read your stoic expression in the dark. He lets out a sigh, unable to come to a conclusion, and returns back to looking through Dottore’s stuff. “He was clearly challenging me. He’s hiding something and wants me to find it.”

With Diluc’s back turned to you, you roll your eyes. Why are men always like this?

“Maybe he was just flirting,” You suggest, your tone annoyed.

“I was n-” Diluc pauses and clears his throat. “I mean, he was not flirting with you.” He sounds outraged that you would even discuss such a thing.

“Sir, his words had that weird kind of aura to them. With all due respect, I believe I’m not ugly enough that he wouldn’t flirt with me. He just sounded kind of horny,” You say, as if such a thing should be obvious. Diluc freezes completely and stands up, turning to look at you. His eyes are blown wide at your words and, in your alcoholic stupor, you’re unaware of the egregious unprofessionalism of your words. The prince steps closer to you, his crimson gaze boring into yours.

“Archons,” He mutters after a few seconds. “They didn’t serve you grape juice, did they?”

“Nope,” You respond in a gleeful voice, popping your mouth at the end of the word. “Were they supposed to?” You ask cluelessly, leaning on the wall behind you.

Diluc lets out a frustrated huff, but it doesn’t seem directed at you. “Barbatos, they had one job,” He mutters to himself before walking over to Dottore’s desk and bending over to look at the contents of the desk drawers. “Anyways, just watch the door. That’s an order.”

Even in your tipsiness, you are aware enough to sense Diluc’s frustration at the situation, so you bite your tongue and watch the door. Your gaze flutters between the elder prince and the door, unable to focus on your assigned duty as the alcohol swirls through your system. The elder prince’s noisy actions of rifling through files draws your attention and you look over at him, eyebrows raised. However, what catches your attention is a glint of white in his back pocket.

“What’s in your pocket?” You ask, causing Diluc to let out a frustrated huff.

“I said to watch the door,” Diluc reminds you in a harsh tone, but by now, you know the prince is all bark and no bite.

“I have two eyes,” You respond combatively. Diluc sighs, knowing this is a fight he won’t win. “One to watch you and one to watch the door.”

“That is quite literally not how vision works, (Y/N),” Diluc tries to explain, but knows there’s no reasoning with alcohol. He’s encountered his brother enough times after his drunken escapades to know when to give up. “Just… use both to watch the door.”

“Tell me what’s in your pocket and I will,” Your words are dangerous and if Diluc wasn’t fond of you, he could easily have thrown you in prison for saying such things.

“We’re done in here,” Diluc states after a few moments of ignoring you, placing the final file back into its rightful position and dusting himself off. He walks over to you and pulls the white object out of his pocket, holding it out to you. “It’s a mask, by the way.”

“Okay,” You say, taking the mask in your hand. You’re not far enough gone to try putting it on, so you simply slip it into your own pocket. “What’s in the other pocket, then, sir?” You ask, a sly smirk appearing on your face. Diluc flusters at your mischievous expression as he brushes past you to exit the room.

“Nothing.” He responds, but you know otherwise. As the two of you exit into the hallway, you take advantage of the fact that the prince had exited Dottore’s room before you and you quickly snatch the object in his other pocket. You had only seen the outline of it, but now that it rests in your hands, you’re utterly baffled as to why he would hide such a thing.

“What is this?” You ask, holding the object away from Diluc as he whirls around, trying to grab the object from your hand.

“Stop acting like a child, (Y/N),” Diluc warns, but there’s a faint desperation in his voice. “It’s my Vision.”

“This isn’t your Vision,” You state, staring at him with furrowed brows. “Your Vision looks different from this.”

Before you can theorize any more about what the faux-Vision in your hands is, Diluc opens the door closest to the two of you and pulls you in rather roughly by the arm. You only tighten your grip on the object in response.

“Could you be any louder, (Y/N)? Barbatos, it’s just a Vision, but it’s not mine. Give it back.” Diluc orders, but you simply smirk at him as the two of you stand in the dark of the supply closet he had cornered you in. The light filtering from underneath the door allows him to barely see your expression, despite the overall darkness of the room. His hand fumbles against the wall before the room is lit in a soft orange light as his hand finds an unlit candle near the door.

“Hm,” You say upon seeing his glowering expression. He looks absolutely furious, but for once you aren’t living in fear of such an expression. In fact, he looks rather delicio- “Make me, Diluc.” The words tumble out of your lips, sultry and sweet, before you can even finish processing your own thoughts. Right now, for once in your life, you have the chance to make Prince Diluc beg and you are relishing in the moment, in all of its unprofessional glory.

Diluc’s eyes flash with anger and as he angrily grips your wrist and shoves you back into the shelf behind you. The wood juts into your back and you let out a soft cry of both surprise and pain as objects begin to clatter off the shelf around the two of you. Taking advantage of your surprise at his forcefulness, Diluc manages to wrangle the object out of your hand and he fastens it securely in within his breast pocket, away from your prying, tipsy hands. As Diluc’s harsh grip on your wrist fails to falter, you feel tears bubble up in your eyes, unable to hold them back. Okay, maybe you had more than two drinks, you tell yourself.

Before you can stop them, more words are spilling out of your mouth, but they’re no longer the empowered ones you wish you could say.

“I do everything for you,” you blubber pathetically and watch as Diluc’s eyes widen at your tone. “And the one time i want something in return, just to know something about you, you’re mean to me.” Before you can stop them, you’ve activated the waterworks, tears freefalling down your cheeks. The only word to describe Diluc’s expression is terrified.

“N... no, don’t cry.” Diluc’s grip on your wrist loosens, but he still holds it close, his other free arm pulling you in by your waist into a comforting hug. His gestures and words are stiff as if he’s not sure how to do this. You’re fairly sure the two of you are breaking each and every code of conduct at this moment, but for now, you don’t care. His hand rubs the small of your back in a comforting motion, his thumb trailing up and down the part of your wrist that he likely bruised. “You’re my best knight, the only one I can trust, it’s… okay. Please don’t cry.”

The prince’s words are frantic and softly spoken, as if he’s trying his best to pull compliments out of thin air to stop your tears. Despite him not being very good at comforting you, your sobs start to subside into small hiccups as you bury your head into the spot between his shoulder and neck. You feel him stiffen at the gesture. Nonetheless, he pulls you into a tighter one armed hug.

After you manage to get your tipsy tears under control, you let out a shaky sigh before continuing with your words. “Why do you never let me in? I swore my life to protect you. I’d do anything for you. but you just shut me out every time,” You whisper, voice still stained with the tears you had just cried out. In the morning, you’d be mortified with your words, but for now, you brain is encouraging you to continue. Diluc pulls away from you and cups his hands on the side of your face, using his thumbs to wipe away your tear stains.

“You’re too valuable to waste your tears on someone like me.” Diluc mutters as the pads of his fingers soak up the salty tears. His tone is saddened from your actions.

“Answer the question, Diluc, please,” you beg, dropping the honorifics once more. You stare into his eyes, searching for an answer. You watch him inhale, as if he’s trying to muster up the courage to say something.

“Okay,” He breathes, eyes looking into yours for reassurance. “Okay.” His voice is more resolute as he repeats the words. “I don’t know how to keep you close without making you uncomfortable. I don’t know how much I should let you in without scaring you off. I feel this way because for the last six years, I’ve been in-”

Before he can finish his words, the door to the supply closet swings open. The bright light causes the both of you to flinch as a third voice gasps dramatically. You blink rapidly, trying to adjust your eyes to the bright lights from the hallway in order to understand what’s happening, your hand reaching up to the hilt of your sword.

“My, my, what a scandalous sight,” the voice (Dottore, you identify) croons and the two of you look on in mortification. “A prince and his knight having an illicit rendezvous in the janitorial closet.”

The two of you look out to see a small crowd of five people having gathered -- Dottore, his assistant, Kaeya, Jean, and another Fatui agent. You’re not sure why they’re all gathered outside, but what matters is that they’re now viewing you after having been caught in a broom closet with the king-to-be’s hands cupping your face and him staring into your eyes.

Fuck, you think as Diluc’s hands rescind from your face quickly, as if the water of your tears had scalded him.

#diluc x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #diluc headcanons #diluc scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #diluc #genshin impact #*writing #*inheritance #*diluc #*fic #AAAAAAAAAAAAA ITS HERE

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phrynewrites · 2 years

Text

Here’s a touch of absolute fluff and softness while I work through the rest of fake dating au chapter 2! I think I accidentally deleted the ask this went with, so if it was yours, please let me know!

This takes place post epilogue in Blind Date AU.

56. “Just marry me already.”

115. “you weren’t supposed to hear that!”

____

When the shower ran, Bosco called.

It was part of their routine, really. Jasmine would get home from dance, and in the instances when she wouldn’t strip off her sweatshirt and sports bra before crossing the bathroom threshold—her silent invitation for Bosco to join her, she’d spend at least twenty minutes in the shower, scrubbing away the grime and sweat of dance before making herself a snack.

And in those twenty minutes, Bosco had taken to calling Jasmine’s parents.

They left messages each time, figuring that they had grown sick of their calling, but nonetheless, they persisted. The messages they left were long, rambling like a river, thick with praises of Jasmine, heavy with pleas for their attendance at their wedding, and coarse with reminders that spiteing their only daughter after all these years was nothing more than another unnecessary hurt for everyone involved.

So when Jasmine only removed her scrunchie, flicking it at Bosco’s chest with a crisp laugh, shaking her head along with it as though she were shaking off the stress and strain dance had put on her body as well, Bosco tried her father once more.

“It’s me, Bosco…again.” They leaned against the back of the sofa. It was the same opening line following the same voicemail message. They settled the phone between their ear and shoulder, pulling their fingers back until they heard a crack.

“I’m sure you’re getting sick of me calling, but I’m again asking you to reconsider…” After at least sixty phone calls, all met with the same lack of response, it was hard to hold a considerate tone. “Your lack of response to the invite. It was due two months ago, and I know both of us—Jasmine really, but both of us would appreciate you coming.”

As if on cue, Bosco could hear Jasmine singing some old love song from the sixties, her voice muffled by the water, but still clearly off-key. They eased back onto the couch, letting themself fall over the edge and onto the seat, legs dangling, sinking into the music and the well-loved leather.

“I know you don’t like me. We’ve met before—I’m not sure if you remember—but I remember you not liking me—”

And as Jasmine tried to hit the high note, her words slurred but shrill but sweet, Bosco broke into a grin.

“I’m pausing a lot. Jasmine’s singing right now.” They scrubbed through their hair, tugging at the roots. “And it’s bad. You probably already know that. She told me all about how you’d come to her recitals and didn’t hold back, but it’d be okay because you’d all get ice cream afterward. How it was the reason why she got into dance in the first place, so she could perform at the recitals but not be embarrassed while singing.”

“She’s not embarrassed anymore though, clearly.” They trailed off with a chuckle. “She does this every day, and every day I’m home when she gets home, I just listen to her sing in the shower and it just makes me so happy. And I tell her that, even when she shoves me off, especially when she shoves me off for joining in. And I’m not really good either.” Another chuckle.

There’s a stillness, but Bosco assumes Jasmine’s just concentrating on shaving her legs, or that they’re at the end of a song. And they close their eyes and take it in.

“She stopped and I kind of miss it. I really love it when she does this. I love that I get to hear her every day.” They drag their hand through their hair before landing on a strand and twirling. “It’s dumb, but I just love her. And anyway, we want you to come. We want you to see that. You’ll see that even though it’s also dumb, she loves me too, and—”

A wet sob broke through the stillness.

Jasmine stood at the crest of the hallway, loosely grasping a towel, dripping on the hardwoods.

“Baby, no.” They could only manage a whisper, pulling themself up and approaching her. They folded her into their arms, her wet hair pressing into their shoulder. “You weren’t supposed to hear that. I —”

Bosco fisted her hair as she pressed deeper against them, arms locking around their waist, towel slipping a bit.

“I know I said his RSVP probably got lost in the mail. Your mom’s too, but…” They knew it was a lie, pretending that the response was simply lost rather than nonexistent. “I thought I could fix it for you.”

When Jasmine pulls herself off Bosco’s shoulder, they’re quick to wipe the tears away with their thumbs, to smooth her wet hair back and off her shoulders.

“I was gonna ask if you had a hair clip.” Jasmine’s voice was small, like if she’d grow any louder, she’d break.

Bosco kissed her cheek, tasting salt on their lips as they muttered against her, “I have a few of yours, yeah.”

It’s quiet for a moment. That same kind of still Bosco felt when Jasmine started singing. If Bosco looked closely enough, they could see Jasmine thinking, they could see the gears inside her turning, though rusted by her tears.

Bosco turned. “I’ll go get your clip now.”

But Jasmine caught their wrist before they could wander too far. “You’re telling him you like my singing. That you love me.”

She asks it like a statement, but Bosco knows it’s a question. She doesn’t know why Bosco’s doing this.

“I do love you. And your singing.” Bosco said, fitting their fingers between Jasmine’s, keeping her close. “Maybe if he saw that we loved each other he would change—”

“Just marry me already.”

Jasmine’s quick to cut them off, though there's a fresh set of tears streaking through. The towel became nothing more than an afterthought, hitting the hardwood with a wet smack as she drags her hand across her face, wiping the tears away.

Bosco tried to laugh, tried to dispel the tension. “I’m trying, I swear.”

But Jasmine met them with a faint laugh only, pulling their joined hands close to her chest.

“No, we should just do it.” Jasmine glanced up to meet Bosco’s gaze, and though it was hard to see her teary-eyed, they held tight. “I don’t care if they’re there or really anyone else is. We could do it tomorrow. Just go down to the courthouse and do it. Have something later with our friends and your family and…”

Jasmine’s breathless, closer now than before, her lips an inch away from Bosco’s with every breathy word. “I just want you now.”

Bosco thought about protesting, calling up the invitations they’d already sent, the venue they’d already booked, the dress Jasmine had already ordered, much less finding two people who were willing to wait around City Hall with them all morning. But as Jasmine closed the distance, lips slotting between theirs, hands intertwined, hair wet and lush and her body pressing ever closer…

Their protests died several times over, their hand found its way to the small of her back, and their lips hummed that same broken melody from before between each kiss peppered to her cheek.

#for anon #asks answered #rpdr fanfiction #rpdr fanfic #rpdr fic #jasco #phryneff #jasco blind date au

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writingwife-83 · 3 years

Note

Hello!! I saw your post regarding sending dialogue prompts if we come up with it, so here's one :)

"I love you but we can't keep going like this."

Can you please write a Sherlolly fic for this one? I absolutely love your writing and look forward to your Sherlolly fics all the time! Cheers ;)

Hi, anon! I hope this one isn’t too much of a stretch, but this is just what came to my mind when I thought about the prompt. I tried to squeeze it all into a one shot and it started to come out weird, so I abandoned that plan. Hopefully I’ll be posting part 2 soon! Anyway, hope you and everyone else enjoy this bit of Regency AU angst and romance! 🎀

We Can’t Keep Going Like This

“Shall we dance the next set as well?” Sherlock asked as they exited the dance floor, Molly on his arm.

She shook her head, giving him a tight smile. “Thank you, no. In fact, I would much prefer some fresh air.”

Molly had been especially quiet all night, and she seemed flushed and jittery. Something was on her mind and it was only a matter of time until it came out. He could only assume their impending wedding was weighing heavily on her.

They stepped out into the late summer air which was just beginning to feel a touch cool. It was clearly a welcomed change from the stuffy confined of the ballroom as Molly shut her eyes and breathed in deep.

“Dreadfully crowded,” Sherlock commented, leaning against one of the columns of the vine shrouded veranda. “The Watson’s always seem to insist on inviting absolutely every family in the entire countryside. I hardly see the appeal. The noise and heat put quite a damper on the pleasant time that might be had enjoying music and dancing. I myself would never choose to-“

“Mr. Holmes, I shall be going away soon.”

Sherlock halted, his gaze shifting to her as he tilted his head in confusion. “Going away where?”

Molly fiddled with her hands, pacing a bit in the moonlight. “I have a great aunt in Scotland. I’ve written to her and asked if I might come and stay for a while, and just today I received her reply that she’d be happy to have me. I plan to depart in another day or two if I’m able.”

“But with merely a fortnight before our wedding?” Sherlock questioned with a little laugh. “You would scarce arrive and unpack before you’d have to return. It hardly seems worth the effort.”

“That’s just it, Mr. Holmes,” she replied quietly. “There will not be a wedding.”

He stared at her in silence for a moment, absorbing her words as best he could.

“But it has all been…arranged,” he argued, the words sounding weak, even to him.

“And it never should have been arranged in the first place.” Molly’s voice became firmer and she stopped pacing, turning to him and regarding him seriously. “I love you, but we can’t keep going like this.”

I love you.

She hadn’t said those words since…well, since that fateful day a couple of months before.

“I know there was hardly anything else for your family to do after what happened with your sister,” Molly went on.

Yes, she did rather force everybody’s hand, Sherlock thought. A crowded London ball was an inconvenient time for Eurus to go completely mad, especially since the incident included threatening Molly Hooper’s life and insisting that she and Sherlock confess their love for each other as the only way to keep her safe. It was a chaotic and heart stopping moment that he, and likely everyone else in attendance, wouldn’t soon forget. Once things were handled with his sister and the dust had settled, it went without saying that some days later an engagement simply had to be announced.

“But regardless, I cannot allow this marriage to take place.” Molly shook her head, resuming her pacing. “It is happening for all the wrong reasons but I know that neither you nor your family would ever put a stop to it, which is of course a credit to you all! So I find that I am the only one who can do what must be done. I can make a home in Scotland with my aunt, where nobody knows me. A broken engagement will be left far behind, and I can do my best to start fresh…just as you will be free to do.”

Words failed Sherlock. Not only had this completely taken him by surprise, but it also felt so very wrong.

“Forgive me, but that is quite an upheaval to pick up and move your life so far away. You needn’t make such a decision so hastily,” he finally voiced.

Molly’s lip quivered when she spoke again. “Mr Holmes, I have wrestled with myself and considered all possible options since the very moment our engagement was announced! There is nothing hasty about this decision. Surely you can see this is the most logical option.”

It was at that moment that Sherlock realized he hadn’t considered any other options. Since they’d become engaged, he’d simply accepted the fact and carried on.

“For whom is this the logical option?” Sherlock found himself questioning, stepping closer and eyeing her curiously. “Forgive me, but only a moment ago you stated that you love me, and this time it was under no duress. And yet you plan to uproot your life and flee from our impending marriage. Why?”

Molly tilted her chin in the air, squaring her shoulders as she spoke coolly. “I take no pleasure in a union that is rooted in little more than obligation and pity.”

Sherlock’s brow furrowed. “Obligation and pity? But you are my friend, Miss Hooper. We are friends, are we not?”

“I did like to think so, yes.” She smiled softly, then hesitated, blushing a little. “But, Mr. Holmes, before all of this, tell me truthfully…had you ever thought to propose?”

Air caught in his throat and he had to swallow thickly, knowing full well that a lack of response would be just as clear to her as any spoken word.

Molly’s lips twisted and she looked down for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “I shall leave a note,” she explained, a little hitch in her voice. “I will explain that I am sorry for any hurt I may cause but that I simply have no wish to marry. That will surely free you from any guilt in the matter.”

She moved to leave but Sherlock caught her wrist, causing her to whirl back and face him, eyes wide in surprise.

“And that is to be the end of it?” Sherlock asked, his voice half desperation and half confusion as his thumb moved unconsciously over the silk of her glove. “You’d truly leave England?”

“Can you not see this is for the best?” Molly whispered, a sheen reflecting in her eyes. “I beg you not to make this any harder than it already is.”

And with that, her hand slipped from his and she hurried back inside the ballroom. Sherlock watched her as she made her way through the crowds, his feet frozen in place even as he felt the urge to rush after her.

He stayed outside, replaying the words they’d just exchanged over and over, and he realized that he was about to lose Molly Hooper. The reality of it was a revelation that rivaled even his public declaration of love.

A declaration which, now more than ever, he was very sure he meant.

#sherlolly #regency au #regency sherlolly #dialogue prompts #glad to be writing something again lol

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muffinbeliever · 3 years

Text

When the Stars Align [07]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Soulmate!Reader

Word Count: 4717

Warnings: language, sexual content, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), ANGST, but also cute date fluff, Lisa Braeden (yes this is a warning), crying, body insecurity

Summary: Soulmate!AU– Everyone has the first words their soulmate says to them tattooed on their wrists. You and your cat are living a normal life in Fort Collins, Colorado when three men come bursting through your door, completely changing your life. Reader-insert story. Starts around S06E08, but Sam has his soul, and it doesn’t really follow the series from there

A/N: HELLO !!!! i apologize for the delay my classes have been swamping me with work and i already had writers block but i finished this chapter like five minutes ago and i'm desperate to post it and see what you guys think ! please be sure to leave comments and likes as always <3

Masterlist | When the Stars Align Masterlist

Sunlight illuminated Dean’s face that you admired as you drove along the open road. The windows were down, a light breeze flowing through the car. Occasionally, Dean would catch you staring at him, but you didn’t mind and neither did he.

You giggled when you noticed a familiar neon sign and the red leather booths that peaked through the window, having been here only a couple of hours before.

“What?” Dean looked over at you, nervous as he didn’t know why you laughed. You shook your head, before replying.

“I just really like this place,” you said, refraining from telling him about your earlier excursion with Thomas, not wanting it to ruin the moment. He gave you a soft smile.

“I remember,” he said, his eyes shining with fondness, “You mentioned that you come here a lot when you were showing me around.” Your heart soared at the fact that he remembered the small detail.

He parked the car, before quickly getting out of the car, jogging over to your side to open the door before you could even register what had happened. He extended his arm and you giggled at his silliness before getting out of the car. He closed the door behind you, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back, gently leading you towards the diner.

There weren’t many people and you were grateful, hoping to have a quiet dinner with your soulmate and get to know him a bit better. He grabbed a booth snuggled against a corner of the room, gesturing you to sit down. You took one side of the table and he took the other side.

Two menus were placed on the table, and the dark-haired waitress flashed Dean a smile. She looked a couple of years older than you and her black jeans and tight shirt hugged her curves, her tied apron accentuating her slim waist. Her hair fell in gentle waves, framing her face in a way that yours never did.

“My name is Carmen, I’ll be serving you tonight,” she said directly to Dean. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, and you caught Dean glance at you.

“Can I start you off with anything to drink?” She asked, and Dean nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll have a Coke, please. Sweetheart, what about you?” He asked you kindly.

“A water, please,” you said to Carmen. Her eyes roamed your face and clothes, and she gave you a smirk.

“I’ll be right back with your drinks,” she said, winking at Dean before walking away, her hips swaying with each step. There was a familiar sinking feeling in your chest that reeked of self-doubt.

Who did you think you are? Bagging a guy like Dean Winchester? Obviously, you weren’t terrible to look at, but you sure as hell weren’t a head-turner. Guys didn’t double take when you passed by nor did they try to pursue you. The only exception was Thomas, and you were sure that it was more of a friendly attraction than romantic.

You picked up a menu, not even sparing Dean a glance, trying to focus on what you were going to eat. Despite having eaten here many times, you were surprised at the selection they offered. Most times, you got a salad, sometimes switching it up with a burger, but the prospect of a pastrami sandwich sounded especially inviting tonight. You were debating ordering the pastrami, but decided that it probably wouldn’t look very attractive to eat. Besides, you were already self-conscious about your body, might as well try to eat healthily. Out of the corner or your eye, you saw Carmen approach your table, placing down the two drinks and straws.

“Have you decided what to get, sugar?” Carmen said, flashing a smile at Dean, not that he noticed. He was still looking at the menu, preoccupied with the dozens of choices to choose from.

“Yeah, uh… I’ll get the double bacon cheeseburger with fries on the side,” he said, before looking up and handing her his menu.

“And you?” She asked in a bored tone.

“I’ll get the chicken salad please, dressing on the side,” you said and she wrote it down before leaving. Dean gave you a look.

“Salad? I thought you liked burgers,” he observed, and you felt your heart sink. You didn’t want to be a salad girl, but here you were. You chastised yourself, this is Dean. He doesn’t care if you eat a pastrami sandwich.

“You’re right, I’ll be right back,” you said with newfound courage before getting up from the booth and walking over to the counter. You were able to call out to Carmen.

“Actually, can I have the pastrami sandwich with a side of fries instead of the salad?” She scoffed.

“Figures,” she muttered, “You don’t look like the salad type.”

Her bitchy tone cut through your heart like a knife. You were taken aback, unable to think for a second. You tried formulating a response, but she was already gone. You looked over at Dean who was typing away on his phone, probably texting Sam. You were defeated once again by a beautiful woman.

You made your way to the table, sitting down, lost in your thoughts. Dean’s phone was put away and you were staring at the table. Thinking for a second, you got up, and a look of confusion flashed in Dean’s eyes, but it was gone when you slid into the booth right next to him.

“Hey there, sweetheart. Get a little lonely over there?” He joked and you rolled your eyes before snuggling closer to him, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne.

“Just missed you was all,” you mumbled into his shoulder and he kissed the top of your head.

“I missed you too, sweetheart,” he said, “but I can tell something is wrong.” He gave you a knowing look.

“Carmen is pretty,” you admitted, hating that you were being petty.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” he said, and you scoffed, pulling away to look at him.

“I’m not jealous,” you said, hoping you sounded more confident than you felt.

“I was just… I was making sure that… I…” you stammered before sighing, your shoulders falling in defeat.

“Yeah, okay maybe I was a little jealous. But clearly, we’re here together and she just kept staring at you, and don’t even get me started on how she talked to me.” You could feel yourself sinking deeper into your thoughts, hating that your stupid insecurities were about to ruin the date.

“What did she say to you?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowing. You shook your head, debating on not telling him, but his deep green eyes were full of concern and worry.

“Just that I don’t look like the salad type,” you said, lowering your head in embarrassment. A hand came up to cup your cheek and your eyes met his once again.

“That’s bullshit. You’re beautiful. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’m only yours, sweetheart,” he said, sincerely, before pulling you into a gentle kiss. It was scary how easily that calmed you down. You had struggled with insecurities for the majority of your life, and it usually took a couple of days, if not weeks, to pull yourself out of the dark hole in your mind, but one kiss from Dean, and all of the sudden, your heart stops racing and your thoughts slow.

Your kiss was disrupted by a clatter of plates on the table. Carmen didn’t speak a word to either of you and she was about to leave when Dean called out to her.

“You’re going to apologize to my girlfriend and then we’re getting a new server. You have no right to speak to her like that,” Dean defended you, an angry look on his face.

“Dean,” you whispered, a bit embarrassed by how this was going. She wasn’t exactly wrong, you weren’t supermodel-thin nor did you have amazing curves that drove men wild.

“Sorry,” Carmen said, not sounding sorry at all, before spinning on her heels and walking away from the table.

“Bitch,” Dean muttered, his eyebrows furrowing as he noticed you were lost in your thoughts, a small frown on your face. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head before you turned to look up at him.

“Let’s just enjoy our date,” you said with a hopeful smile, and he nodded. Forty minutes, a pastrami sandwich, and a double bacon cheeseburger later, you were giggling like a schoolgirl, enamored by the man sitting next to you.

“Sammy was sitting on the handlebars while I rode us to the hospital!” Dean exclaimed and you laughed at the story. He snatched a fry off your plate and dipped it in ketchup before shoving it in his mouth. You were acutely aware of the warmth radiating from his thigh that was pressed against yours. Caught up in his green eyes, you didn’t notice a man approach the table.

“How was the food?” You jumped, shocked at his sudden appearance. It was the manager, John or Jacob or something with a ‘J’. He came over after you complained about Carmen, apologizing for her behavior and telling you that he would be serving you for the rest of the night.

You beamed at him, completely satisfied with the pastrami sandwich that was now happily sitting in your stomach.

“Great!” Dean responded, flashing him a smile. The manager returned the smile before continuing.

“Because of your unpleasant start to the evening, dessert is on us. We have root beer floats, ice cream sundaes, and a variety of pies,” he listed, and you immediately looked at Dean whose eyes lit up.

“We’ll take a slice of apple pie, please,” Dean responded right away, his hand squeezing yours in excitement. You giggled at the smile on his face. The manager nodded and left the table, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence. You looked up at him, admiring the freckles dotting his face. He gave you a soft smile that you returned and you leaned in for a kiss. It was a chaste kiss, not one of need or lust, but adoration and love.

Throughout the months, you have accepted that you had fallen for the oldest Winchester brother. There was the obvious fact that he was your soulmate, the one person in the world made exactly for you, but you knew that even if that weren’t the case, you would have still been in love with Dean. You loved his wit and charm, often catching yourself imagining his flirtatious winks. Not only was he gorgeous to look at, but he didn’t flaunt it like other men did. Sure, he knew he was attractive, but you at times, you sensed deep-rooted insecurities from him, which you thought was ridiculous since he was basically built like a Greek god. He was selfless to a fault; always putting everyone before himself. His loyalty to Sam was admirable, and you had no doubt that he would do anything for those he loved.

The manager placed a giant steaming slice of pie between the two of you, two forks on the side of the plate as well as whipped cream. You expected Dean to dig right in, but he looked at you expectantly. The scent of the spiced apple filled wafted from the plate and made your mouth salivate. Dean picked up a fork and detached a large piece from the tip of the slice. Before you could even register his actions, he brought the fork up to your mouth and pressed it against your closed lips. You accepted it without question, humming as the warm treat hit your tongue.

“That bad, huh?” Dean joked with a twinkle in his eye. You smiled at him before returning the favor. Your fork didn’t grab nearly as big of a piece as his did, but you focused on the way his lips wrapped around the fork. His tongue swiped at his upper lip, not wanting to waste a single crumb of pie.

Heat pooled in your belly and you clenched your thighs together, remembering just how much of an expert he was with his tongue. He groaned, his eyes closed as he savored the pie, and the sound shot straight to the apex of your thighs. You let out a small whimper, and his eyes flashed open. His green eyes swept your figure, taking in your squished thighs and flushed neck before smirking at you.

“Later, sweetheart,” he promised, his fingers dancing on the top of your thighs. You could feel his warmth through your jeans, sparks of electricity shooting through you with every touch. You shuffled closer to him, wanting your bodies as close as possible.

“You want some more?” He offered to you and you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Dean got another piece of pie and shoved it in his mouth. You looked at him, confused, and he smirked at you once again before pulling you into a searing kiss. You let out a soft moan as his tongue played with yours, the taste of apple pie fresh in your mouths. His hand tightened around your thigh at the sound. He was the first to pull away, breathless.

“Let’s get this to go, ya?” He suggested with a wink and you giggled, nodding. You were lost in his smile, noting the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and his full lips turned up. He waved the manager down and asked for a box and the check. You placed the pie delicately in the take-out box as Dean set down enough cash to cover for the meal and tip.

You slid out of the booth first, pulling your leather jacket on and Dean’s hand rested on the small of your back, leading the both of you out of the diner. As you expected, the air was crisp and chilled. He opened the door of the Impala for you, making sure you were safely inside before shutting it. You watched as he jogged over to the driver's side, sliding in next to you. Grateful for the long bench, you shifted closer to Dean and his hand came to rest comfortably on your thigh.

The soft sounds of Bon Jovi whispered through the speakers, barely noticeable unless you strained your ears. The windows were closed this time due to the slightly colder weather, but you were warm with Dean beside you.

There wasn’t much talking on the way home. You sat in a comfortable silence, occasionally feeling his eyes on your face, but every time you looked at him, he was looking away, a smile on his face. After the third time, you huffed and grabbed his hand from your thigh, interlacing your fingers with his. He looked at you, surprise written on his face, and you gave him a triumphant smile. He brought your interlocked hands up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your hand.

Before you knew it, the familiar light of your street came into view and he pulled his car up in front of your house. You didn’t want to let go of his hand, so you slid out his door after he did, holding the box of pie in your other hand. The crickets were chirping as you walked up to the front door.

‘Later, sweetheart,’ came the echo of his voice throughout your mind, and you pulled him into the house, roughly kissing him once the door was closed. His arms came to your shoulders, gently pushing off the sleeves of your leather jacket. You struggled a little bit, not wanting to drop the pie in your hand, before Dean took it from you, setting it on the small table next to your door that usually held nothing but a small succulent.

He pulled off your shirt in a swift motion and his lips began traveling down your neck, occasionally sucking and licking sensitive spots. You gasped as he nibbled your earlobe.

“So responsive,” he murmured and an involuntary shiver ran through your body. His leg gently pushed your legs apart and his thigh pressed against your covered core. His hands gripped your waist, and you ground against his thigh, the friction of your jeans rubbing against your sensitive bud in a deliciously perfect way.

“Good girl,” he praised, continuing his trail of kisses from your neck down to the tops of your breasts.

“So beautiful,” he whispered to himself, staring at your flushed chest. You were wearing a simple bra, nothing fancy or particularly sexy, but Dean made you feel like you were in expensive lingerie, draped in the finest lace and silk in the world. You moaned wantonly, begging for more. You picked up the rhythm, moving faster against his thigh. He watched you with lust-filled eyes, devouring you. The pressure between your legs kept building until it finally peaked, and you came with a loud moan. Dean placed gentle kisses on your sweaty forehead, relaxing you as you came down from your high. His leg came down, setting your feet gently on the floor. Your legs felt like jello, occasional spasms wracking through them.

“Maybe we should move this to the bedroom,” you suggested, not wanting the night to be over. He picked you up in his arms and carried you bridal style into your room. He gently tossed you onto the bed. He peeled his clothes off and you wriggled out of your tight jeans and soaked underwear. Your hands went behind your back to unclasp your bra and you flung it off the bed, hearing it land on the floor with a soft thud. You laid back down on the bed, fully naked and ready for Dean.

His eyes swept over your naked body and you spied his cock straining through the fabric of his boxers. He quickly discarded his underwear and laid on top of you, his firm chest pressing against your naked breasts. You could feel him hard against your stomach and you snaked a hand between the two of you, wrapping your hand around his shaft.

Your thumb wiped across the slit, catching the beads of precum that were leaking from his tip. His breath caught and you slowly pumped him in your hands. One of his large hands came to rest on your right breast, his thumb brushing against your pebbled nipple. The other hand dipped into your wet folds, collecting your juices on his digits. You watched him suck them off his fingers before they were venturing into you once again. You whined, not wanting to wait another second for his cock to be inside you.

“Please,” you said, squirming beneath him. He had one hand lazily circling your clit and the other pinching and tugging at your breasts.

“Please what, sweetheart?” he asked, power dripping from his words. You searched for more friction, but couldn’t find any.

“Please fuck me,” you begged. “I want to feel you inside me please. Fill me up with your big cock.”

“Fuck, baby,” he swore under his breath, before lining himself at your entrance. With a single thrust, he was completely unleashed in you, and you let out an embarrassingly loud moan. He groaned into your neck, still not used to your tightness and warmth surrounding him. When you were adjusted to his large size, he began moving inside you.

His cock dragged along your walls with every thrust, emptying you and filling you repeatedly. Your legs hooked around his back, driving him deeper into you, hitting places you didn’t even know existed. Your moans bounced off the walls, as did his low grunts.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he demanded, his fingers working your clit once again. Your eyes clenched shut as you came around him with a scream. He pulled you into a bruising kiss and his thrusts became sloppy as he raced to catch his release, pulling out of you and spilling himself on your chest and stomach. Spent, he rolled next to you, the two of you heaving to catch your breath.

“Wow,” you whispered once your racing heart began to slow. He turned his face towards you, grinning.

“Yeah,” he agreed, before climbing out of bed to get you a damp towel. The two of you cleaned up in silence. He pulled on boxers and you pulled on underwear and his t-shirt, switching the light off before falling back into bed. His arms rested around you, your chests pressed against each other.

“Thank you for taking me on a date,” you said, catching his eyes with yours, “I’ve never been on one before, but I’m glad I waited for you.” You felt his body tense and his lips pressed tightly together.

“Sweetheart,” he started, and you saw regret fill his eyes.

“I should’ve waited for you. I wish I did,” he admitted, his voice tense. You shook your head and tried to press closer to him, but he pulled away.

“Dean,” you asked, confused, but it was his turn to shake his head.

“I never thought I’d meet you. I always thought this—,” he gestured towards your body, “you— I thought it was impossible. The life I live is not made for soulmates. I never imagined myself living a normal life with my soulmate. I couldn’t even bear the thought of it. So I didn’t.”

He ran a hand down his face, an exhausted sigh escaping his lips. You tugged at his hand, wanting to see him.

“I know that you have more experience than I do, Dean. That doesn’t bother me,” you tried to explain, but he pulled his hand away from yours.

“You don’t even know half of it,” he snapped back, and you pulled back at his sharp tone.

“Then explain it to me,” you demanded, knowing that this conversation had been boiling for a while and that it was only a matter of time before it reared its ugly head again. Dean must’ve known it too, because his eyes softened and he rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling.

“At first, it was just a bunch of one-night stands,” he started, and you laid stiffly, afraid that he would stop talking if you moved.

“I spent a lot of nights picking up girls in bars. I would flirt with them and take ‘em home. I’d show them a good time and leave before they’d wake up in the morning. It went on like that for years. I didn’t think I’d ever meet you. Hell, I didn’t even know if I’d be alive to meet you.

“But then I met Lisa, and for the first time in my life, I wanted to spend another night with a girl. I ended up spending a whole week at her place. I knew she wasn’t my soulmate. I knew that her soulmate died in a car accident years before. I knew that the universe didn’t perfectly make us for each other, but at the time, I didn’t care. Sam and Dad were on a case and I was alone.

“I thought about her a lot during my time on the road. I wanted to cling onto something— I needed to cling onto something. Years passed, and I still didn’t meet you. Me and Sammy ended up working a case in her city. I met her son.”

Your breath hitched. Her son? Dean turned his head towards you at the sound and saw the panic flash across your eyes.

“Oh no, Ben wasn’t my kid. I swear,” he tried to reassure you, but you didn’t feel comforted at the thought, you merely nodded, gesturing for him to resume his story.

“The apocalypse was approaching, and I was scared. I was weak and scared. I didn’t think I’d make it, and I had accepted the fact that I wouldn’t meet you before the world ended. I thought Lisa and Ben were all I had. I dreamed about her, quite a bit, really. I dreamed about having a life with her, mowing the lawn on Saturdays and picking Ben up from baseball practice. I visited her again before the whole Lucifer-Michael showdown happened. I told her that I’d made arrangements to keep her and Ben safe, and she asked me to stay with her, but I knew that I couldn’t. I had to be there for Sammy. For Bobby.

“But then, Sam was in the cage. I was lost and broken. So I did the only thing that I could think of. I left the hunting life and moved in with Lisa.” His words pierced you like a knife, your heart shattering into pieces. Tears pooled in your eyes.

You weren’t exactly sure why you were upset. It wasn’t his fault that the two of you hadn’t met at the time. It wasn’t his fault that he met Lisa before he met you. It wasn’t his fault that he sought comfort in her when you weren’t there for him. You knew it was no one’s fault, just circumstance, but that didn’t keep you from feeling a sting of betrayal.

“How long?” You whispered, knowing that if you spoke any louder it would crack and you would burst into tears. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to know the answer. He was silent for a moment, and you thought he wouldn’t respond.

“A year,” he said, his voice hoarse, seemingly filled with regret, concern, and pain. Your stomach dropped. A year? He spent a whole year with her. A whole year with her and her son. Their son. It didn’t matter that Dean wasn’t Ben’s biological father, you already knew that Dean loved him like his own. You let out a shaky breath, preparing yourself to ask the question that had been floating around your mind ever since he started.

“Did you love her?”

You couldn’t even meet his eyes. You looked anywhere but him, your eyes roaming over your ceiling instead of the green eyes that were staring at you. He was quiet, and you closed your eyes, feeling tears spill down the side of your face.

“I thought I did, but I don’t know anymore,” came his whispered reply. “In some ways, it probably was love. But not the kind of love that would survive. I couldn’t live a life without hunting. She couldn’t live a life with hunting.”

You winced at his words. The implication that if they were able to compromise, he wouldn’t be laying next to you right now, but next to her. You wished he had just said yes. Maybe it would’ve hurt less.

“Okay,” you said because there was nothing else to say. You contemplated kicking him out of the bed, but you still loved him, and you knew that it would just pain you more. You turned over on your side, your back facing him. You pulled the covers up, wanting them to swallow you whole. There was movement on the bed and you heard the shuffling of sheets, feeling Dean’s warm body come close to yours to hold you, but you tensed up.

“Please don’t,” you whispered, and he stilled before respecting your wishes, retreating back to his side of the bed. You gripped a pillow against your side, hugging it for comfort. You tried to keep your sobs silent, but there was no use hiding them.

You cried for your pain and hurt, wanting to hate Dean, but you couldn’t. You cried for the love lost between the two of you. You cried because you didn’t know if he even wanted you. But most of all, you cried for Dean. You cried for the burdens he’s endured and that you couldn’t be there for him during times of hardship. You cried because you knew that it wasn’t Dean’s fault, yet here you were punishing him because you were really punishing yourself.

As your tears slowed and your breath became steady again, you were exhausted. You were already drifting off to sleep when you felt Dean’s fingers in your hair and a gentle kiss to your forehead. Too tired to argue, you snuggled into his body and let sleep take you away.

Taglist: @akshi8278 @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @lanea-1 @slamminmine

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wildlyglittering · 3 years

Text

A Love for all Seasons Part 1 (Winter)

I said that I would write a piece for Nessian Month to be posted each Sunday so here is the first!

I’d hoped to have this up earlier but hey ho. I ended up scrapping 8,000 words of something that I’d previously done and re-wrote this in a day. It’s barely edited so I can only apologise for dubious quality and numerous spelling errors.

I asked for prompt requests and this one is based on ‘modern au, Nesta as a ballerina.’ You’ll probably see that it’s not entirely modern au because I just can’t write modern au - sorry!

I’ve decided to link all 4 prompts received together as a 4 part series. Not all other sections will be as long as this one. Probably. I mean, I’ve not written them yet so....

***

Velaris at Solmas was a magical time and Nesta wasn’t thinking metaphorically – Solmas was literally a magical time.

Solmas was a blend of both fae and human traditions and, as a time for celebration, this meant spirits were up and magical shields were down. Active magic rippled through the air as did the leakage from those who had magic but never used it.

No one truly remembered when the lines between fae and human’s merged and there was the possibility the fae had decided to adjust the truth in collective memory to make it seem like they had always been part of the city.

Perhaps they had. Perhaps they hadn’t. Not a human amongst them could tell and not a fae amongst them would.

As centuries passed, or decades - no one was quite sure after all, the fae evolved to blend in. They shed talons, claws and teeth, and moulted wings and shimmering skin.

That wasn’t to say a good deal of them didn’t have remnants of their previous lineage; there were still those who had wings and those who were always followed by a mist. Some slipped from human form like their flesh was a dress.

There wasn’t a fae who didn’t have some magic, however small. But then, so did Nesta and her sisters, Feyre and Elain.

At some point in their collective past, the fae decided they liked the humans and vice versa and so romantic liaisons were not an uncommon occurrence. Despite a few differences, both species were compatible and that was how magic managed to bleed into some human veins. As Feyre said, they were human but with ‘added spice’.

Sometimes all that magic, especially at this heightened time of year, was damned irritating.

That morning Nesta had been in a café, reading her book when a lady biting into a gingerbread man had to stop on account of her baked good starting to scream.

Then, when she’d left to make her way to the ballet, she’d been caught in a snow flurry where the snowflakes took the form of small fairies and danced around her. She’d slapped them away, ignoring their outraged cries.

The walk which should have been ten minutes from her favourite café down into the theatre district ended up taking forty after some enchanted horses pulling sleighs decided to protest and caused a blockage across three streets, causing numerous detours.

When she finally reached the theatre, the peace of her day shattered, Nesta stormed into her dressing room and slammed the door. “Fucking fae.”

Nesta didn’t hate the fae. Technically, you couldn’t. Anytime anyone had a negative thought there was a haze which descended over people’s minds to remind them how much they loved the fae and how pleased they were to live beside them.

The magic in her blood meant the haze was a pithy little thing which Nesta mentally told to shove its pleasantries up its non-existent asshole leading it to drift away, pretending it wasn’t offended.

No, she didn’t hate them but she found them so inconvenient.

Nesta had settled at her dressing table when her door opened following a knock. A head peeked round, long ruby-red hair streaming downwards. One of the fae Nesta did like.

“Nesta?”

“I’m here.”

“Viviane said she’s going to turn a portion of the Sidra into an ice rink later, fancy coming? I might also take an ice-dive. Good for the pores!”

Gwyn, the production assistant at the Velaris City Ballet Company was fae but was classified as a water nymph. Nesta had only discovered this when they took a trip to Adriata the beach city the previous year for a ‘hot girl summer’ and she realised Gwyn had a set of gills accompanying her lungs.

Nesta met Gwyn’s eyes in the mirror and raised an eyebrow.

“What? I can’t help myself; you know that. I take it the ice-rink is a no?”

Nesta shook her head in response as she began on her hair but smiled. Despite herself she really did like Gwyn and Viviane, and a lot of the production company too even though the company was riddled with nepotism and bias.

Few humans managed to win a place in the ballet. Arts and creative pursuits were hard to break into when you were auditioning against fae. The only reason Nesta was as successful as she had been was because of that drop of magical blood.

She reached for the headdress resting next to her make-up. The Solmas production was The Nutcracker which their performance director, Eris had choreographed and screamed over for weeks.

“Tchaikovsky was a close, personal friend of mine,” he’d bragged. “He was fae of course, well – half-fae, but then no one can be perfect.”

Nesta had rolled her eyes and ignored Eris’ glare, not at all intimidated since they both discovered she immune to glamours and spells.

Nesta hadn’t been able to score the prima ballerina role for the production but then she hadn’t for years. How can a human compete with fae who spun in the air and flew on invisible, gossamer wings?

She’d auditioned for the role of Sugar Plum Fairy and wasn’t offered the position on account of the actual fairies also auditioning. If Nesta had managed to win the role then she wouldn’t have lasted a week before a surprise accident befell her, regardless of the amount of protection charms she wore.

The role she had won suited her fine, the dance being one of her favourites – the Illyrian dance. The steps weren’t complex but the performance was all about attitude and frankly, Nesta had that in spades.

When she’d been offered the dance, Gwyn took her aside in the corridor, a frown on her face. “Are you sure you want to perform this Nesta?”

“I know what you’re going to say, the dance should have gone to an Illyrian and you’re right – it should have. I’ve been trying to petition Eris for years now about Illyrian ballerinas but he’s always up to his typical high-fae purist bullshit.”

Gwyn had given a nervous laugh and looked around them, making sure Eris wouldn’t somehow leap out of the wall at the comment. It was a fair suspicion; he’d done it to performers before if they had any critique of him to say.

“Just do the dance cultural justice.”

Nesta swore she would.

On the scale of species hierarchy, full humans remained at the bottom. They were aging mortals with no magic and poor immune systems. The fae laughed themselves silly at the concept of chicken pox and the common cold. However, it didn’t mean every fae species was revered.

High fae like Eris were basically royalty while lesser fae were their middle-class cousins. Nymphs were considered useful and the majority of other fae fell someplace in between.

Illyrians were almost a side step from the hierarchy.

As a species they were immortal, eternally youthful and ripe with magic as powerful as some of the high fae. Some of their bodies were like machines with what they did with them and they would have been able to perform ballet for days on end without breaking.

They also had those vast jet-black wings which were terrifying and enthralling at the same time. It was a shame Illyrian Air didn’t do well, but then there were far too many customer service issues.

The only reason they weren’t on par with the high-fae (in the eyes of the high-fae) was that they weren’t elegant enough. They moved with a violence underneath the surface of their flesh like their blood was fire.

They also had complex histories which no one understood because Illyrians refused to discuss anything about Illyria and their heritage with anyone who wasn’t an Illyrian.

She once asked Feyre about them to be told Illyrians had spent their entire lifetimes being looked down upon by other fae so when those same fae demanded Illyrian secrets, they refused to comply.

Feyre had said, “Cassian told me, ‘Why should we give them anything when we have to fight for everything,’” and Nesta conceded he had a point. Possibly the only point Cassian had ever had but a point nonetheless.

Why was she thinking all this now? Why was she thinking of her baby sister’s stupid friends? She knew very well why.

Gwyn had stepped into Nesta’s dressing room. “Isn’t tonight when your sister and her friends are coming to the show?”

Yes, that was why.

Gwyn leant against the wall, in Nesta’s line of sight in the mirror and Nesta shrugged keeping her voice nonchalant. “Yes, unfortunately.”

It wasn’t unfortunate Feyre was coming, Feyre who loved anything to do with art and ballet but Nesta wasn’t looking forward to the rest. Rhys, Feyre’s half high-fae, half Illyrian boyfriend had all the arrogant superiority of the high-fae and the volatility of the Illyrians with none of the manners.

Nesta was painfully aware Rhys didn’t like her.

The rest of the group were also non-human with Feyre seemingly abandoning humans completely, preferring the exclusive company of Rhys circle of fae friends. Elain was the opposite, living outside the walls of the city in her cottage, wanting nothing to do with fae at all.

Feyre had told Rhys a bunch of stories from their childhood and Rhys didn’t quite comprehend how human sisters worked, didn’t quite comprehend how complex their relationship had been.

The spit of magic in their blood had made things all the more difficult as humans were not the best containers for magic. In Nesta’s eyes what made it worse were all the tattoos Feyre had inked into her skin; amplifiers mostly.

Anger had been born from Nesta’s worry and her worry was from her love.

Feyre understood the root cause of Nesta’s peevishness even if she didn’t like it but Rhys saw disapproval and returned it in kind.

At the thought of some of the attendees Nesta’s heart started doing something change, fluttering away like it was a bird trapped in a cage. She remembered when Ianthe, one of the ensemble, had shown them the pet bird she’d brought.

“Isn’t it lovely?” she’d said, her eyes glittering as her fingernails grew sharp. “Such a pretty pet for me to love.”

Nesta remembered the poor thing desperately trying to fly out of its cage, smashing its wings and beak against the bars.

Ianthe ended up eating it. She’d sobbed she hadn’t meant to but she hadn’t grabbed her protein bar that morning when she’d left her apartment and she was starving.

They couldn’t help it; it was in their nature to consume. The fae were like locusts that way, consuming land, lives, birds. Hearts.

Gwyn’s smile at Nesta’s response stretched into one which took up most of her face and Nesta refrained from shuddering. Nymph embodied the gentle and the harsh of their element. Water nymphs had the ability to be as tranquil and soft as summer rain or as vicious and deadly as a shark in deep water.

“Uh-huh. Will Cassian be attending?”

“I don’t know, probably.”

“Are you nervous about doing the Illyrian dance in front of Illyrians?”

Yes. Terrified.

“No,” she said, “I’ve done my research.”

Eris’ choreography for the dance was lazy and aggressive, rooted in his high-fae misperceptions of Illyrian culture. Nesta convinced Eris to let her put together her own steps and when he let her, not giving a damn about the dance, Nesta sought out the sole Illyrian choreographer in Velaris - a woman named Emerie.

At least the dance would contain authentic steps, she’d just never performed it in front of any Illyrians who weren’t Emerie before.

Gwyn’s grin was still wide.

“Oh, go away would you,” Nesta said with a scowl. “I need to focus before the matinee.”

Gwyn laughed at Nesta’s scowl and Nesta knew Gwyn understood Nesta’s words were harsh but her meaning wasn’t.

“Fine, fine. I’ll see you later, my little witchy dancer.”

Nesta glared at her friends departing back. I’m not a witch, she wanted to say, just a human whose great grandma caught the eye of a high-fae and had at it.

The matinee performance went well. Performances at the Velaris City Ballet Company always went well. The city made it so, drawing in an audience like moths to lamplight.

For all its splendour, Velaris was ancient and small. What was once a human village at the base of the mountains with the Sidra River running wild aside it, grew in population and glamour once the fae came pushing through the veil.

Human technology and fae magic combined to turn the place into something unique which rippled out to other human towns and dwellings but Velaris remained the first and the original.

While other cities grew, Velaris kept its quaintness. Old buildings built from red stone were covered with trailing ivy which bloomed with different flowers depending on the inhabitants’ moods. Rooms would change their size and shape according to the number of people within and wallpapers would shift when required to become something new. A piece of furniture could be a chaise longue in the morning and a mahogany dresser by nightfall.

Outside was no different. The cobbled side streets were slightly off kilter and you could look back, having walked up a steep street only to realise the path you’d walked was now heading a different direction and upwards, not down.

The ballet house was one of the oldest buildings and contained concentrated magic the way a bottle contained liquid. It also meant, much like liquid, if the bottle was shaken then there would be spillage.

Truth told; they’d had some difficulties with previous performances.

The first performance of Sleeping Beauty had left the majority of the audience passed out in their red velvet chairs while thickets of thorns grew up from the stage floor, encompassing the dancers. Nesta had to hack through several vines to reach her dressing room to grab her apartment keys.

The Snow Queen last Solmas followed suit. Viviane had been their prima ballerina that year and was in her utmost element. That had been the worst winter Velaris had ever experienced with uncharacteristic heavy snowfalls and biting frosts. The less said about the temporary missing children and ominous women in sleighs, the better.

Aside from when Eris turned actual rats into human sized dancers and the whole city was put into a three-day long lockdown while fae exterminators went to work, The Nutcracker was going fairly well.

Magic whirled the audience through each act and they heard and tasted and smelt everything being shown to them. Music would drift into their ears as performers danced fluidly across the stage. Some of the audience sobbed, overcome by the magic which sank into their skin.

The experience took some time to get used to if you were human. The first time Nesta had performed ballet in Velaris she was dizzy with nausea and slick with sweat. Now she even managed to use some of her own dormant abilities to counter the effects, or even to add in some of her own.

Before the evening performance began, her phone beeped with a message from Feyre.

Can’t wait to see you dance! Catch up with you afterwards!

Nesta groaned. She’d agreed to go for a drink at the in-house bar with Feyre and the rest but now she wished she was going straight home.

The stage melted away from the dance before hers into Nesta’s scenery as she waited in the wings for her cue. She eyed up the boxes, knowing Rhys had sponsored one for Feyre but didn’t have a clue which one.

The Illyrian dance had a sparse stage, to demonstrate the Illyrian steppes but the painted backdrop was one of Ramiel, the revered Illyrian mountain. Despite the sparsity, the set pulsed with a dry heat; the scent of crackling wood fire and spice filling the air, the sensation of warm winds tickling her skin.

When the music started, she danced on, determined to prove to Illyrian eyes in the audience she would do it justice.

Nesta drew on the same magic which ran in Feyre and Elain’s bones, the same magic Feyre had permanently etched on the surface of her skin. When Nesta leapt, she cast imaginary wings on her back which carried her further forward and higher. When she pirouetted, she was spinning on ice. Her arms were graceful and her legs sharp.

Nesta formed herself into a blade of dance as she undulated her hips and curved her spine. She swore the heat under her skin caused the air to burn around her.

She finished to rapturous applause and resisted eyeing up the boxes again although she wanted to know if any particular hands were clapping.

In the wings Gwyn was waiting and handed her a towel and Nesta realised she was glistening with sweat, droplets highlighting her cleavage.

“Very nice,” Gwyn said, clapping. “A small fire broke out in one of the stalls.”

Before Nesta said anything, Eris walked by with a low whistle. “Great performance, Nesta. I now have a raging boner.”

The women shrieked in disgust and Nesta threw her towel at him. “Animal.”

Eris grinned, “You know it” and his eyes shone as he caught the towel. Nesta made a mental note to ask Elain for more rowan to put around her dressing room door.

Nesta watched the rest of the performances from the wings until curtain close. Usually she never dawdled, always wanting to remove her costume and dress into civilian clothes as quick as possible but tonight she took her time, idly drawing out each minute until she couldn’t avoid her fate forever.

Audience members with children, fae or human often left first, clearing the way for those who wanted to remain behind in the theatre bar. When the fae discovered alcohol a new set of problems arose. Regardless of what species you were, once you were drunk you did stupid things.

The bar was below ground level and took up a vast amount of space. Overstuffed seating was positioned around tables in compartments, each draped with their own set of thick, crimson red curtains with gold tassels. If the occupants wanted privacy, then they had it.

Nesta shimmied past groups; fae, human and mixed, who laughed and clinked their champagne flutes, none recognising her as a dancer they’d watched earlier.

Feyre was likely to have a private booth booked along with the theatre box as Rhys had so much gold he likely melted it down and bathed in it. The last time Nesta met up with Feyre, her little sister had been wearing a diamond encrusted corset top.

Ahead of her stood two figures, both leaning against the open fronted bar and deep in conversation. Cassian and Azriel. No one was able to miss them even if they tried to blend in. Illyrians were known for their size and their wings and not exactly known for their love of ballet.

Almost as though he sensed her arrival, Cassian stopped talking and turned, strands of his black hair falling from his messy bun. Her eyes met his and she felt how she always did whenever they glanced at each other – a little bit anxious, a little bit horny and a little bit excited.

Nesta was worried if she opened her mouth, a thousand butterflies would float upwards from her stomach.

The look on his face, one she couldn’t place, slipped into something familiar as she drew nearer. Cassian smirked at her and followed it up with a slow, obvious glance from head to toe.

“Hello, Nesta.” He drawled his words, husky and deep. His voice was a baritone which always had her itching to dance across his words. Illyrian magic wasn’t the strongest but those who wielded it were.

What Illyrians wielded their magic for was anyone’s guess but if she had to, Nesta would have guessed it was for making panties drop if the turning heads of the crowd and little sighs was any indication.

There had been occasions where she too was driven with the need to show him more skin of hers then he deserved, to beg him to lay her down and cover her body in honey before licking it off with rasps of his tongue.

Must have been magic.

“Cassian,” she said with barely a nod and turned to his companion. “Azriel.”

Azriel nodded back a polite hello while Cassian leant against the bar directly facing her, wearing a grin as sharkish as Gwyn’s. She was like a lamb on the ground being circled by a taloned beast.

“Interesting performance.”

Azriel coughed at Cassian’s words, spluttering on the beer he was drinking and Nesta frowned, heat flooding her cheeks. Was he mocking her?

If he was, she wouldn’t give his smugly handsome self the satisfaction of getting to her and instead she ignored his words asking who else was here and where her sister was.

“Feyre, Rhys, Az and me. Amren came to watch the ballet but didn’t stay for drinks.”

“And where’s my sister and Rhys now?”

Cassian jerked his head over to the direction of the compartments. “They’re having a private ‘conversation’ behind closed curtains.”

Nesta’s face twisted in disgust. Fucking fae. Always fucking.

“Why didn’t Amren stay?”

“She never sticks around after The Nutcracker. Says it’s derogatory and insulting and she only comes to refill her well of rage.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, what was it she said Az? That the performances were brimming with cultural appropriation?”

The heat on Nesta’s cheeks turned into furnace. It wasn’t as though Cassian explicitly referred to Nesta’s performance but his words had to crawled under her skin. Feyre’s fae friends weren’t fans of Nesta’s, not after Rhys had spilled to them everything Feyre had told him.

For a group so ancient, they acted like spoilt human teenagers. Nesta would take the high road and try and find dignity in silence.

The bartender brought out another beer for Azriel and a glass of dark liquor for Cassian. A glass of wine from the Rosehall vineyard was handed to her and she was surprised someone had the foresight to order for her before she arrived, and with her favourite drink.

“Did you not like it then?” Nesta asked after taking a sip, her voice light. Azriel coughed again and this time Cassian shot him a glare, his rough-hewn face growing solemn before sliding into his more casual expression.

“There were some authentic Illyrian steps involved which is impressive. Didn’t realise old Eris had it in him.”

“It wasn’t Eris,” Nesta said, “It was me. I found an Illyrian choreographer in the city and she taught me some steps.”

Cassian’s face stilled for a moment, motionless like stone before letting out a roaring laugh which reverberated around the bar. The lesser fae behind him jumped and splashed his drink on the counter, quivering in fright.

“Well, that explains it!”

Nesta’s flesh prickled, her skin chilling in the overly warm bar. Goodness knows what she’d been dancing. Some dance of self-mockery probably. Her throat was burning and she didn’t understand whether she was upset because she thought Emerie liked her or upset because Cassian had seen.

Nesta’s fingers clenched the stem of the wine glass and she took a gulp of her drink, downing almost half as her hand wavered and her eyes watered. Cassian immediately stopped grinning.

“It was a beautiful dance,” Azriel said from her right and she turned to him, his face serious. “Other performances of The Nutcracker have the Illyrian dance as the violent, hostile war dance. Yours was the best one I’ve seen. Cassian liked it very much.”

Nesta whispered her thanks, looking between the Illyrians standing at either side of her who were now glaring at each other. She was out-flanked next to their bulk and she wished her sister was done doing whatever the hell she was doing so Nesta could say her hellos and goodbyes and get out of there.

“There’s only one Illyrian choreographer in this city,” Cassian said, his voice softer as his fingers trailed around his glass rim. “No other Illyrian would ever bother with this place.”

Nesta looked around the theatre at its gilded gold décor and red curtains but somehow knew Cassian was referring to Velaris as a whole. Illyrians never came to the city to visit, let alone live.

She glanced at him and found his smile was gentler and his hazel eyes, which always bordered on lascivious, were kinder somehow. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to mock her, perhaps he realised his raucous laughter had hurt.

He had no reason to care if he’d hurt her feelings and she shouldn’t have cared either but there had been a sting to his words which sunk deeper than she’d liked. She wasn’t opposed if he wanted to soothe over his words.

But she wasn’t about to let him know that. Instead, she fixed a bored expression onto her face. “Oh,” she said, looking into her glass as she swirled her wine around, “and who would that be?”

Cassian, still leaning against the bar, mirrored her by looking into his own glass before taking a sip.

“A friend of mine from the old country moved here a couple of years ago because her attempt at bringing ballet into the township was less than successful. You know her human name as Emerie.”

Cassian was still leaning against the bar, now looking into his own deep amber coloured liquid before taking a sip.

Nesta’s head snapped up to find Cassian now looking intently at her. “Yes, that’s her.”

“Figured,” Cassian said with a chuckle and took another long sip.

His mood seemed less jovial than before, more pensive and Nesta glanced around to discover Azriel had gone from her side. She looked around the crowds but didn’t see sight of him. How she lost an Illyrian of his stature she didn’t know but when she whipped her head around to the booth Cassian gestured towards earlier, the curtains were still closed.

She didn’t even have it in her to be irritated. The whole night was a wash-out and because of the stupid enchanted horse incident earlier closing streets, she was now adding additional time to her walk home.

“Well, then,” she said. “It’s been a long day and I’m tired; I have another two performances tomorrow and I want to head out and avoid any festive idiots.”

Cassian stood upright, alert and facing her, his glass sloshing the liquid violently as he placed it back onto the bar a little too hard. His wings flexed. “You haven’t seen Feyre yet.”

“If Feyre wanted to catch up with me then she wouldn’t be playing hide the fae penis with her boyfriend right now.” Her tone was sharp and she glared at Cassian. “It doesn’t take much to say a quick hello to your sister.”

Did Nesta care if Cassian thought her rude? Not a fucking bit. Despite Elain living an hour outside the city and Feyre only living on the other side, a journey which took less than a minute travelling by Winnow Express, Feyre was the sister Nesta saw the least.

“If she comes out at any point,” Nesta continued, “tell her I’ll call her.”

It wasn’t a lie when she said she was tired. Two performances a day took it out of her let alone when magic clung in the air at Solmas and let alone the fact that Nesta had used a tiny amount of her own as some kind of performance enhancer.

Whatever energy reserves she had was depleted, the glass of wine making her feel like she’d drank the entire bottle.

Nesta didn’t bother saying goodbye to Cassian, just left her empty glass on the counter and spun around.

Being a ballerina was on her side as she wove through the crowd and up into the foyer which was blissfully empty. Sadly, the world outside the doors was not so much and Nesta took a breath before wrapping herself in her stole.

The statues guarding the entrance waved her a goodbye, one with a human Santa hat adorning its head and the other with a fae garland wrapped around its waist. Nesta rolled her eyes. Human and fae decorations were put on everything so management could say they’d met their Equal Opportunities criteria.

Nesta stepped onto the pavement and looked down the street of the theatre district.

She couldn’t deny Velaris at night was beautiful.

History books stated the first fae who settled in the city were night dwellers and while they were able to survive in the sun, it was under the starlit sky where they thrived. So, the stories went that they made the night spectacular.

The ink black sky was painted with whorls of galaxies and splashed with stars. At first glance everything appeared white but when Nesta looked closer it was clear they were silver and gold and the purest, palest blue.

Feyre had once told her fae eyes saw more colours than humans and the stars were a multitude of colours – the rainbow and beyond. One of Feyre’s tattoos was designed to allow her to see what the fae saw.

The theatre district was still buzzing with humans and fae alike. Because of the nature of the city, it was usual for the streets to be filled until the early hours of the morning and after any performance in the theatre district there was no time for relaxing.

There was always residual magic left over from the ballet. The ballet theatre was the largest of the theatre buildings and so the magic started strongest at the end Nesta now stood before dissipating the further away you walked.

Snowflakes and flowers alike drifted down from the empty, cloudless sky. The Waltz of the Snowflakes and the Waltz of the Flowers often combatted against each other for prominence in their audience’s minds and refused to give in to each even after the show was done.

Thankfully, the Land of the Sweets didn’t involve themselves in this battle. They had done one performance many weeks ago and when chocolate rained from the sky it was delightful. Boiling hot coffee? Not so much.

Nesta navigated her way though the cobbles and crowds as petals landed in her hair and snowflakes melted on her eyelashes. She heaved a sigh of relief when she made it to the end past the gathered individuals who spilled out of the smaller theatres and theatre bars.

She turned left to go into a side street and stopped, almost tripping over her own feet.

Leaning against the wall, silhouetted against the streetlamps and fae lights was the hulking shape of an Illyrian.

“What are you-? How did you-?”

Cassian laughed as he used his elbow to propel himself from the wall and stride towards her. “What am I doing here and how did I get here so fast?”

“Well... yeah.”

“Wings,” he said, jabbing his thumbs in the direction behind him. “They come in useful from time to time. I thought I would fly you home.”

Nesta eyed up the wings behind him, remembering all the news reports of Illyrian Air. “No thank you, I like the walk.”

“Ok, then I’ll walk with you. Make sure you get home safe.”

She frowned. Nesta had lived in this city all her life and despite the occasional fae related incident which was brought on by personal vendetta, unavoidable prophecy from birth or magic spell gone wrong, Velaris was a safe place.

It also helped that Nesta had that splash of fae blood herself and a glare which froze bones. Literally. There had been an incident with an ex-boyfriend but she’d filed an explanation with the police and it was never brought up again.

“I’m fine,” she said. “I don’t need babysitting.”

“I know you don’t but I’d still like to walk you. Please.” The last word was said so softly she almost didn’t hear it but she caught the imploration.

Cassian stepped further into the light of a streetlamp, a few pale pink petals falling from his shoulders, desperation in his eyes.

Nesta sighed. “Fine, but I’m on the other side of the Sidra. The quickest route is over Mermaid Bridge.”

Cassian paused for a moment, “Mermaid Bridge? There won’t be any actual mermaids on it right?”

“Not at this time of year, the water’s too cold and they travel south.”

“Thank god, one of my ex’s was a mermaid. They are terrifying.”

Nesta shook her head, not able to imagine a creature of his size being scared of anything. They started walking in companionable silence. The further away from the city centre they strode, the more the crowds thinned.

Some shops remained open, including the café Nesta sat in earlier and groups had gathered around tables to laugh over mugs of frothy hot chocolate which overflowed with cream. Cinnamon, gingerbread, and candy cane scented the air.

As they walked, humans and fae alike paled when they crossed paths with Cassian and many darted out of his way. One lesser fae flattened himself against the red brick wall while another gave a quiet yelp and ran down an alley.

Nesta glanced up at Cassian but either he was pretending he didn’t notice the running onlookers or he didn’t care.

“What do you do?” she asked. She knew nothing about any of Feyre’s friends in any detail. “For that matter what do any of you do?”

Cassian laughed. “Rhys has a lot of inherited wealth, Amren trades precious stones – we think from the old dragon mines, and no one has a clue what Azriel does. I’m a bounty hunter.”

Oh.

“Caught anyone I’d have heard of?”

“Heard of the Tooth Fairy?”

Nesta grimaced, quickly swooping her tongue over her teeth. “Yes.”

“He was one of mine. So was the Bone Carver, the Weaver and Lanthys.”

Nesta’s eyebrows shot up. “Lanthys? The gold miner? What did he do? Wait, I don’t want to know. He asked me out once.”

Cassian glanced over at her; his own eyebrows raised. “Yeah? Did you say yes?”

Nesta pulled a face. “Good grief, no. He kept sending me telepathic dick pics. It’s bad enough being sent dick pics across dating apps.”

They approached Mermaid Bridge, which was, as Nesta said, devoid of the creature it was named for. Lights twinkled on the other side of the city, the residential side where Nesta lived. There were shrieks of delight further up the river in the dark and Nesta wondered if Gwyn was ice-diving next to Viviane’s ice rink.

Cassian coughed. “You’re on dating apps?”

“Not many, I thought I’d give them a go. My sisters are busy, I only have a few friends and I need something other than work in my life.”

“Yeah, I understand. ‘All work and no play’ make Cassian a dull boy too. The play part of life is fun,” he looked at her from the side of his eye and winked.

Nesta felt the blush spread across her cheeks and she willed it down with whatever force she had left. She wasn’t a virgin so she wasn’t about to start blushing like one.

They climbed the steps to the bridge and walked across. Of all the bridges which connected the two halves of the city, this was Gwyn’s favourite. Nesta’s human eyes couldn’t pick out the colours at night but in the day the railings glittered gold and shimmered with turquoise gems.

“Do you date?” The words slipped out before she stopped them. “You mentioned a mermaid ex so....”

Cassian’s laugh was more a breath and he started to smooth down non-existent knots in his hair. “Yes. Well...no. I did but work is busy and I’m sort of interested in someone and I guess until I purge them from my system, I’m not interested in anyone else.”

“How long have you been interested in them?”

“A while.”

“Why don’t you ask them out rather than eradicate them from your options?”

Nesta wanted to slap herself in the face. Or pitch herself off the bridge into the black, ice-cold water. Even as she was speaking, she wanted to not be but it was as though her mouth and mind had fallen out and no longer wanted anything to do with each other.

Cassian shrugged, “I guess. They just never struck me as someone interested in dating fae.”

They came to the end of the bridge and Nesta looked upwards at the sky. On this side of the river without the city lights, the stars were clearer to her eyes, more defined. One shot across the sky.

“You should go for it,” Nesta said, “you might be surprised.”

“Maybe,” Cassian sighed. “She’s kind of intimidating though.”

“You’re over six foot tall with massive wings and can use magic. I’m sure you’re more intimidating.”

“Me? Nah, I’m sure she thinks I’m an oversized bat.”

Nesta cringed. Those had been her words once a couple of years ago when she was first introduced to Feyre’s new friendship group and the Illyrian’s within. She didn’t think they’d heard her say it but then again, fae hearing was something exceptional along with fae sight.

The streets they walked were now quieter, the hustle and bustle of the inner-city gone. The chill settled in easier on this side of the river and Nesta knew she’d wake to frost across her window panes in the morning.

They were silent until they reached her apartment building, halfway up one of the steepest lanes. It was a small four storey which wasn’t spacious or modern but it gave her brilliant view across the river and Velaris and most importantly, it was hers.

“This is me,” she said, stopping outside the steps leading to the red entrance door. “Thank you for walking me back.” It was on the tip of her tongue to invite Cassian in for coffee but she held back.

He smiled, his eyes warm and shining. “Honestly it was my pleasure.” He leant forward, the sheer bulk of him covering Nesta and for a moment she thought he would kiss her but instead he took her slim fingered hand in his larger one and brought it up to his mouth, kissing the back of her hand.

“Goodnight,” he said, “I hope you have a good Solmas Day when it comes.”

Cassian was no ballet dancer but he sure moved like one, letting go of her hand and swivelling to face the direction they’d walked in from, marching down the slope of her street while Nesta stared at his retreating back.

He was clad in black and would have easily blended into his surroundings if not for the red jewels he wore at his wrists.

Nesta gaped down at the back of her hand, her mouth open. She still felt his lips, warm and soft, on her skin.

“Wait!”

Cassian turned back to face her, tilting his head.

“I’m sorry if my performance in the ballet was offensive. I know Azriel said it was beautiful and that you liked it but if that was a lie to save my feelings, it’s ok. I went to Emerie because I wanted to make it authentic. I should have left it alone.”

Cassian smiled but it wasn’t mocking. He took a few steps back up the street towards her. “You know I said Emerie was a friend from the old country?”

Nesta nodded.

“She’s a really good friend. I like her a lot. She’s no nonsense with a great heart. I was trying to set her up with Rhys’ cousin Mor and in the process we got talking about dating and relationships and she asked if there was anyone, I was interested in. As it happens, I discovered this evening that she knows the person I was talking about. I’m sure she saw this as her opportunity to do some matchmaking of her own.”

“Oh,” Nesta said, her throat dry.

“Yeah. I also happened to tell her in one conversation I would be watching The Nutcracker this year on account of it being Solmas. So, there you go.”

The butterflies were flittering in Nesta’s stomach again and Cassian’s words were taking shape in her mind and building a story. “The steps Emerie taught me for the Illyrian dance – was that an invitation?”

Cassian’s smile stretched wide and he tilted his head back and laughed, the dark column of his throat shining in the starlight. “Oh yes, a very specific invitation. Emerie must have had the day of her life when she pieced everything together.”

The flittering in her stomach was now pooling in her chest. This type of conversation should have her fleeing up the steps and racing through the foyer until she threw herself into her cold bed to hide under the covers.

Nesta wanted to know what she’d inadvertently done without meaning to. Not that she minded whatever it was she’d done.

“What did I dance then, Cassian?” Her voice was lower than usual and rich like the overflowing cream in the café.

Cassian’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his hazel eyes were almost black. “The dance you performed half naked on a heated stage was most definitely an invitation, Nesta.” He smiled at her again, soft like before but there was something behind it. Suddenly he was a wolf and she the lamb again. He was all claws and teeth and animal.

A shiver of anticipation ran through her. Her pulse beating in her throat, drawing Cassian’s eye.

“Oh, Nesta,” Cassian said, his voice almost a growl. “You performed an Illyrian dance of seduction.”

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