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cheelduh · 3 years

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How to bet your way into someone’s heart. (Highschool AU)

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Warnings: Fake weed. Poor Signora smh. Oh yes, lots of swearing. UNEDITED ASF IM LAZY BYE.

Synopsis: Childe is being an infatuated idiot, Lisa has eyes for vending machine chocolate, and Kaeya is desperately in need of a pencil. With all these distractions, there’s no way in hell you’ll be able focus on the task at hand.

This is crack.

I don’t have time.

You think as you race down the hallway, shoes slapping against the floor as you expertly dodge multiple students in your way.

Bullet. You're as fast as a bullet, because everyone around you is a blur and you don't stop, can't stop, not until you meet your target.

It's funny how one can accomplish many challenges and feats they were unable to, merely due to pressure. Pressure is a twisted ugly thing that can gnaw its way into the pit of your stomach and grow like a parasite. Pressure is a parasite that can either bring the best in you, or the worst, but at the cost of one's peace of mind.

"Move it Signora!" You shouted a warning at the senior blocking your way. There wasn't any time for you slow down at that point, and you'd risk bumping into the breakfast club's stall if you swerved to the side, sending juice flying everywhere.

Signora's eyes widened momentarily, getting the gist albeit her anger, and choosing to back up flatly against the locker.

Her lipstick nearly slips from her fingers as you swerve past, a thick gust of wind in your wake.

It messes with the hair she woke up two hours early for.

Signora plots her revenge. You still don't have time.

You nearly kick the door to your home room down, but you can't risk the perfect image your teachers have of you. So you pat down your t-shirt, take five tempting deep breaths, and tentatively knock the door.

The door opens and you're met with a young man, familiar amber pupils welcoming you.

You try not to huff and puff at the cost of your stamina. Thinking back, there's no way in hell you could have physically been that fast.

"Good morning Y/N," Your homeroom teacher gives you a small smile, moving aside to let you in. "Class is just about to start."

You check your watch, then turn to him with an apologetic tone, trying not to crack under the eyes of your classmates. "I'm so sorry Mr.Zhongli, I slept through my alarm."

Your idiot ass forgot to set one because you studied till four in the morning.

"You're like thirty seconds late, cut the shit." Beidou boos from the back, causing your stance to stiffen.

"I don't wanna hear it Beidou. If anything, you're two periods earlier than usual." Ningguang calls her out for you, but you have a feeling it's more so on behalf of a personal vendetta.

Ignoring the two bickering, Mr.Zhongli gives you the handout. "Take a seat. Do not fret over such minuscule things dear."

Relief washes over you. Your impeccable attendance is not on the line.

Childe tries to flag you down next to him but you send him a pointed glare and sit next to Lisa instead.

"You should give him a chance you know." Lisa doesn't even have to open her eyes to know what's going on.

"Please," You scoff, digging through your bags to collect your notes. "As if I have the time to fool around with a shady kid like him."

Your friend sighs in disapproval, and makes no move to take out her own notes as Mr.Zhongli begins the lecture on the Archon war.

"You should really pay attention." It bothers you that she doesn't, but then again it's not your place to tell her what to do or not to do.

"I don't need to." She yawns, blinking an eye open towards you. "I have you after all."

"I'm tired of saving your ass." You groan and pull a pen out of your pocket to get started on the exercises as Mr.Zhongli talks in the background.

The course outline contained all the topic, and you made sure to teach yourself as much as you could before class to stay ahead.

Immersed in the worksheet, you blinked away your sleep and tried to answer as many questions as you could at the moment. You didn't hear the slight shift next to you, and the change of breathing, or the rate of which time went by.

A familiar scent makes its way into your nostrils.

"Lisa. Why do you smell like mango juul juice." You know the scent from when Signora blew a mango flavoured fog in your face yesterday at lunch when you said you were hungry.

A chuckle erupts and you freeze in place. "That's because I'm not Lisa."

You blink. Once, twice, and then crane your head to the side to meet a pair of teasing cerulean eyes.

Fingers loosening in shock, the pen drops on the desk with a short thud.

You whisk your head towards the front of the classroom, and Mr.Zhongli is nowhere to be seen.

"There's no saving you now." Childe's smirk widens, and he scoots closer to you. "Mr.Zhongli had to get something from the staff room. The staff room is near the cafeteria."

"Which is also near the merch stall." You grumbled, bringing both hands to massage your temples as a headache is beginning it's reign.

"Tsk tsk. Smart girl. I'd like to add that he's forgotten his wallet in his office as well, which is in the south wing."

"Son of a..." You mutter underneath your breath, and opt to scoot further back, but your efforts are futile because your desk is in a corner.

Your next beacon of hope is Lisa, so you scan the room full of chattering students, only to find her pestering her crush, Jean.

Shit...there's nothing getting you out of this one.

"What did it take?" Is your only question, the despair starting to brew. How much did it take for your best friend to betray you?

"A dollar and fifty for vending machine chocolate."

You take a moment to breathe, calming your nerves and burying down the urge to screech. "What will it take?"

"For what?" Childe replies back innocently, and you can't believe how fast he can change masks. You almost give in.

"For you to leave me alone."

"Aww come on girlie," He whines, closing in the distance. "Don't be so cold."

What did your mom tell you that one time? Oh yes. That if you were ever backed against a wall, then just break the damn thing down.

Too bad it's figurative. You're just about ready to sock him in the face if you didn't know he was into that sort of thing.

"I'm serious about you," He says, and it sounds so real, so genuine, nearly makes you sputter. "See? I've even bought school supplies.

He unzips his light backback and spills the contents on the table.

A lone piece of paper flies out, a lighter, and a mechanical pencil with no lead that follows straight after. There's also a pocket knife that you choose to ignore.

You're not the least bit surprised.

"First of all, how the fuck are you passing this class. Second, do you really think I'm into nerds?"

"Well, considering that you are a nerd—"

"You're making things worse."

"My bad, my bad." He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "But on a serious note. I'll do anything."

You cross your arms. "I'm not just another one of your conquests Childe. It's not like I have the time. There are better things to do."

"You need to relax." He says so simply, with complete disregard as to what you are trying to say.

"I am relaxed." You reply, picking up your pen to continue your work. If he's going to annoy you, then you might as well get shit done while he's at it.

You're not wasting any more time.

"When was the last time you got a full eight hours of sleep?" His voice is soft, too soft, and it's not at all like the Childe you know.

Your pen stops momentarily, but you will yourself to continue writing. The words look fumbled, but you don't care. The best thing to do is get your work done and ignore the idiot next to you.

"C'mon, Zhongli won't be back for another half an hour at least. Let's go." He kicks the bottom of your chair to urge you.

The pen shakes in your hand, and you narrow your eyes at the paper, digging holes into poor question eight. "I'm trying to work here. Let me work." You'll say anything to get him off your back.

"Fine fine fine..." He raises both hands in mock surrender. "I'll stop bothering you."

Your ears perk up at that, and you turn to him so fast he has to hold in his laugh. "Really?"

"Yeah," Childe nods along, bringing your hopes up. "If you win a bet, that is." And they're back to ocean level.

You roll your eyes. There's always a catch. That doesn't mean you're any less interested.

"What's the bet?" You ask curiously, all your focus now on him. Just as he longed for from the very start.

He flicks a thumb towards the door, leaning closer to whisper next to your ear. "We bet when Zhongli comes back."

"Are you kidding me?" You aren't bothered at all at the close proximity, mainly because you're too tired and only care about the freedom that will come with your win.

Childe, however, is a completely different story. His heart is beating a thousand times a second, but his face doesn't show it. Not one bit.

Kaeya leans in from the seat behind you two, interested in what's going on. "Ooooh secrets."

"Shut up Kaeya." Childe and you monotonously drone in sync, still having your little staring contest.

The captain of the skating team smiles, about to ask—

"No. We don't have an extra pencil. Even if we did we wouldn't give it to you." Childe finally breaks his gaze to scare off Kaeya.

Kaeya raises a smug brow, and leans back in his chair like the jerkwad he is. "Then don't let me keep you two love birds."

That's all it takes for him to earn Childe's unwavering respect and loyalty for as long as he lives.

After the two are done creating an elaborate handshake as a mark of their newfound friendship, you decide to just forget about the handout. It's not like you're getting anything done anyways.

"Anyways, back to the bet." Childe says, resting his cheek on his fist as he stares at you dreamily. You try not to break under his gaze.

"If I win, you have to go on a date with me."

"No way in hell—"

"Then I'll bother you for the rest of highschool."

Highschool is eternity. You don't want to live through an eternity of this.

"Fine." You answer, and for the first time he sees genuine fear in your face, it makes him waver slightly. Not enough for him to pity you.

"If I win..." You trail, thinking loud and clear as you ignore the excited chatter of your classmates. "I want you to pay attention to class."

"What?" He exclaims incredulously, blinking in disbelief. "I thought you'd get me to stop talking to you altogether."

"If you're paying attention in class, you don't bother me as much and your grades go up." You grin smartly, and oh archons it livens his entire day up, and it's only nine in the morning.

"You care about my grades?" Childe bites back a smile.

"Not at all." You lie, and quickly look away. Woah the floor tile looking trippy.

He decides it's better to get on with the bet without causing you any more distress. After all, you've given him such cute facial expressions today. He's feeling quite generous.

Pulling out his cracked-as-shit latest model phone, he unlocks it and tinkers with it a bit before turning the screen towards you.

"We'll be using this to time both of our predictions at the same time. Whoever has the closer time to when he finally swings by is the winner." The rules are simply put, no room for error.

You tilt your head in confusion. "Why am I seeing a slime review?"

"SHIT!" Childe fumbles with his phone, aggressively tapping on the screen. He lowers his head and voice as if he's been through fifty consecutive hits in the face. "It's uh, Teucer's account."

"Yeah...okay." Is all you can say.

"Ok what do you bet?" He changes the topic to unfuck the situation.

Putting a finger in your chin, you think for a minute, calculating the average of all the times Mr.Zhongli has left the classroom for a considerable amount of time.

"Fifteen minutes." You're sure of it. It's like clockwork every day.

"Hmm..." Childe crosses his arms, seemingly in deep thought. "Five minutes." He places his bet, and both timers start simultaneously.

Five minutes?! Is he serious?

You laugh inwardly. This challenge is in the bag.

The sense of victory you feel dulls when your ears pick up the echo of footsteps nearing the classroom.. Both your heads snap up to the doors.

There's something scary about Childe once his competitive side comes out. "Looks like I've won." He turns to you, eyes darkening evilly.

"What? There's no way in hell a ginger is right." Your palms are clammed up, eyebrows furrowed in panic. You calculated every single variable, how could this be?

You race to the front, Childe right on your tail as the entire class clamps up. The footsteps get louder, causing even whispers to become total silence.

Then it hits you. The shitty music about getting bitches and bars playing on the other side.

The door is swung open by Childe, and you're face to face with an idiot sophomore with a speaker in his pocket.

Childe’s grin is long gone, and you sigh in relief.

The false alarm encourages the class to return back to their idle chatter.

"Scaramouche?" Childe spits, narrowing his eyes at the unamused boy. "I thought it was Signora's shift today."

By "shift" he means being a complete dickwad and scamming fake weed to students in return for their souls. It only really works on the freshmen.

The only reason the club still runs is because Signora threatened the principal with some sus pictures she snapped of him and his assistant.

"Apparently she had an emergency." Scaramouche explains, lowering the volume on his outdated beats pill. "Something about a hair appointment because she got ran into by a, and I quote "lecherous imbecile.""

You steer clear of the conversation, finding the whiteboard far more fascinating and worth your while.

A loud cough is heard from behind the kid, and you're met with a crestfallen look on your beloved teacher's face.

You go through a whiplash of emotions, becoming completely numb towards your loss.

"They were out of slow cooked bamboo shoot soup." He sighs, handing a stack of papers to Childe, who is wearing the fattest smirk on his face at his victory. "Please hand these out to your classmates Childe, and we will begin shortly."

You check down at the timer despite knowing who’s won. Five minutes and twenty five seconds. Somehow, you don't feel as dejected as you thought you'd feel.

Maybe the date will be fun. Maybe Childe isn't so bad. Maybe...you do have time to indulge in these sort of things. If he’s so hell bent on getting your attention, perhaps it’s possible that you can make some room in your heart for him.

However, all those thoughts fly out the window when Childe hands you the new worksheet.

“I hope you're ready for our date tomorrow. We'll be sparring till sundown, and after you’ll be feeding me with chopsticks." He winks, and it makes your heart flip even though all you want right now is to go to the bathroom and barf your guts out.

Feelings are complicated.

You smile back at him nauseously, tight lipped and all, then you pull out your phone, go on maps, and search for the closest cliffs to jump off of.

After he's done, Childe slouches back in his original seat with a different kind of enthusiasm, and opens up his messages. He texts Zhongli a "thank you <3".

#childe x reader #genshin oneshot #genshin impact oneshot #genshin imagines #childe #tartagila #kaeya alberich #fanfic #genshin impact #genshin tartagalia

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local80smotel · 4 years

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Midnight wind

pairing; V x air bending! Reader

summary; Y/N gains powers and after escaping Larkhill wants to get revenge

requested by; @scatter-mind001

rating; T

warnings; heavy mention of guard-on-prisoner abuse

word count; 2,311

A/N; I'm actually thinking of making a part two of this but I'm actually very satisfied with it! Thank you for the request!

Y/N remembered the night they were stolen from their normal daily life and how much terror pulsed through their body. The reason? Y/N's family were proud Irishmen and refused to hide that fact from anyone. They went as far as to hang the Irish flag outside their home instead of the Norsefire flag which they were commanded to do so. It became an inside joke of the neighborhood on how long it would take for the L/N family to be removed.

Some even betted money. Unsurprisingly it happened around seven months into high Chancellor Sutler's term that the raid happened. Y/N thought they would be spared as they broke down their bedroom door around 1:34 AM. Sadly they were wrong as they were 17 and was seen as being "too old" to be sent to a reclamation camp. Y/N was sent to Larkhill while their parents were sent to two different camps.

This fact was the thing that caused the kid to wail almost every hour of the day when they were forced to stay in their cell. Oh, what would they say to their parents instead of blaming them for this. They should have known they would do something as heartless as break a family up. Larkhill was, to put it shortly and simply, was living hell. The only time Y/N got human interaction was when they were getting experimented on and even then the scientists were anything but kind.

What messed with Y/N's head the most was the lack of clocks or calendars in the camp. Seconds seemed to turn into hours as they would just lay on the concrete floor and stare at the ceiling. The only thing that kept their spirits high was one of the fellow prisoners at Larkhill. The first time they talked was when snow started to stick to the corpse ridden ground. He was quiet and had issues with mumbling and when asked what his name was, he became silent for a few moments only for him to reply with an “I can't remember”.

The two of them decided to give him the name of V as it was the roman numeral for five, his room number. Y/N never knew why but V was the one that the prison guards would abuse when they would become enraged at something. Maybe it was because he didn't try to fight back as other prisoners did. When asked by Y/N why he wouldn't stand up for himself he told her “What's the point?”. V especially enjoyed hearing about the gunpowder plot of 1605 and started to idolize Guy Fawks, the man who had planned the explosion. They couldn't help but giggle when V would ask so many questions like a knowledge-hungry child.

The experiments Y/N experienced was... Something. A theory the scientists had was that an increase in air and maybe using the old-time favorite, electric shock therapy, would bring answers and results. When it came to the air theory, many of their "guinea pigs" had already died as they had been injected with 2.7 mL of air which killed them almost immediately. But somehow, after the now 18-year-old had their brain almost fried, survived and only passed out after the 1.5 mL mark.

When they woke up their food, or better yet described as slop, was harshly thrown into their room.

Y/N feeling nauseous, tried to push away the plate even though it was five feet away from them. To their astonishment, it moved and banged loudly against the thick metal door which left a dent in it. The now curious Y/N would test this new power by "playing" with the local camp rats. When they'd come into their room to eat their food, they flick a wisp of air which would hit them like a whip. As a result, the poor creature would run away squeaking in pain but luckily not bleeding.

What's ironic was both the rat and Y/N were somewhat the same as both were hungry, alone, and puzzled on this new ability. They had never used this power on the workers until they had practiced for three months. At this point in time, they knew how to control how much power they let out and what they would call an "air-blast" which was a shot a compressed spurt of air from their hands. It was hard to practice as they were being restricted in an 8ft by 8ft cell.

When Y/N attacked the scientists it was initially an accident. What caused this? They tried to eject more air into them as almost all of the scientists that worked for the camp were perplexed on how they were still alive. Once 0.5 mL of air was pushed into them, poor Y/N was sent into a panicked state as they could feel their heart starting to skip beats. They were able to strike two of the five people in the room until they were restrained and subdued.

After that, they were moved from room #4 to one of the more secure rooms. With this happening V was under the impression that Y/N had been executed or died that day. V was sent into a blind rage and well, you can guess what happened next. Around midnight, a few weeks after their move to room #12, explosions woke them from their deep slumber. When they awoke they expected to see complete darkness but were entirely wrong.

The fire was everywhere, making it hard for the know coughing inmate to focus on what was happening. Once they were able to get up they immediately looked for shoes. Sure, it sounds selfish at first but they were looking for shoes not so they could run away but so they could look for their only friend, the man in room #5. Sadly, when they heard a loud scream- no, it was more of a roar, they were under the belief that the fire had devoured him. Y/N couldn't help but fall to the ground which was covered in rubble to sob.

This wasn't fair. This place had taken everything from him; his memories, his name, his humanity, and now it had taken his life. The rest of the night was a blur as they tried to travel back to London. This took weeks as the adult was too exhausted to stay up for more than 8 hours as their sleep schedule, just like their will to live, had been completely destroyed by Larkhill. When they finally got to London it was pitch black.

Their heart stung as they walked the brick sidewalk. Their heart was breaking because V and them had talked about this back when they were still cell neighbors. They were so hopeful that they'd get to walk down the streets together once they were free. Y/N was lucky enough to find an abandoned matchbox factory. They decided to stay in the basement of the burned down building as it would be the safest choice when it came to being seen.

Slowly, over the next four years, they fixed up their new lair. They got working electricity and indoor plumbing after trying hundreds of times. The escapee finally got a television after trash diving and finding a still working 70s one. The first channel they watched was "The voice of London" as they heard through the grapevine that it was a news channel. Y/N went to channel 012 and once they saw the News host, their excitement left their body.

It, it was him. Lewis Prothero, the man who would frequently abuse the prisoners of Larkhill. Just seeing him made their blood start to boil. They instantly got off of their makeshift couch, walking back and forth as they mumbled under their breath. They could have sworn they saw Lewis' dead body that night of the fire. This simply wasn't fair.

For the next few weeks, they began to plan, gradually gathering information on where Lewis was living now. The night they finally got his extract location, they were overwhelmed with joy. Y/N grabbed their jacket, as winter was finally rolling around so the winds would nip at them, and left the bunker.

They took flight, fury making it seem like they were moving two times as faster as they should be. Y/N had learned this new ability when they lost all earthly ties after V died. Sure, flying still freaked them out but it was the fastest and safest way. When they slowly approached the building, they prepared for what they would have to do next, which was break the giant window to get inside. They took a deep breath in and air hit and kicked the window in rapid succession, shattering it after just a few hits.

Rolling inside and brushing off pieces of glass, Y/N proceeded to walk in the direction of the home's bathroom as they heard the water running. When they opened the door the first thing that drew their eye was a black mass.

“Lew-” they began their speech they had been writing and tweaking over the last weeks but stopped midway through the first word when the mass turned to them. This wasn't Lewis, this was a random masked person. Before they could ask where their victim was, the man stepped out of the way to reveal the lifeless body on the floor which had a single rose on his chest.

Anger filled them as they looked back up at the masked man. Y/N was supposed to get revenge for their long-dead friend. They RUINED this moment. How was Y/N supposed to help V heal in his grave?

“You!” they screamed as they swiped the air, turning their swipes into blades. “How dare you?! You have no clue what he did!” the man was pushed back by the amount of force the wind carried in it

“Wait let me explain!” the Guy Fawks mask-wearing murderer shouted as they fell to the ground with a knee on the floor to keep them up.

“You weren't there! You weren't mistreated!”

“No Y/-”

Using their oldest power, the air blast, tears were already seeping down their face which was twisted in what seemed to be never-ending pain. The blast hit them directly in the face as they groaned out in pain and finally fell the floor, making a loud thud as their skull hit the marble floor. Y/N strolled over to the body to finish them off so they could get some kind of revenge, only to stop with their body now feeling numb. Their mask, now cracked and was flung off of his face and now somewhere else on the floor with his hat.

“You-” their breathing became shallow as they dropped to the floor with them. “You asshole!” Y/N grabbed the collar of his cap, once again crying but now more violently. “I thought you died- you left me! You left me to suffer alone!” they laid their head on their chest as they continued to sob. V just had to lay there as their close friend cried over them. His skin felt like it was burning as the bathroom's overhead light was beating down on him. He couldn't help but start to cry too. V never wanted to leave them, he was under the impression Y/N has already died. That impression was the reason why he exploded Larkhill.

“I tried looking for you-”

“Well, you didn't try hard enough then!”

There was a moment of silence as the two friends wept next to the freshly dead body of their abuser. V moved them into a hug as he sat upright, rocking them gently as he did so.

“Stop-” they hiccuped “treating me like a baby”

“But that's the only way you'll calm down. You told me this yourself Y/N.”

They rubbed their eyes as they looked up at the severely burnt man. His skin looked inflamed from his crying. They tried to reach up and touch him but he jerked his head back the second their hand went up.

“How did you survive?”

“I can ask you the same thing.”

Y/N rolled their eyes at his reply. Typical V behavior, they thought to themselves. They stayed this way for a few more moments until the realization of where they were set in.

“Welp, we must be going now, police will come any second. We'll be executed if we're found here.” V sprang up, walking over to his mask and hat and quickly put them back where they belonged. Y/N followed suit, already walking out of the bathroom and to the window they had broken to get inside.

“Where are you going?” V asked as the night wind went through his hair

“Home?” they answered back, hoping that they could still fly now that they knew V was alive.

“But that's the completely wrong way.” they looked over at him, confusion on their face as they opened their mouth to speak before V interrupted them, oh how V had a horrible habit of that.

“You're coming home with me. I'm not letting my dear friend live on the street or in some broken-down building.” he held out his hand to them. Y/N could feel V smirking under his cracked mask and rolling their eyes gave them their hand.

#v for vendetta x reader #v for vendetta headshot #v for vendetta imagine #v for vendetta #imagine requests #imagine #airbending!reader #V #V x reader

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luv4fandoms · 5 years

Text

Of Wood and Steel-CH1.

So this story was originally inspired by this post from @tolkien-fantasy that I agree 100% with lol.

So here is chapter 1 of my story, you can also find it on ao3 if you prefer reading there.

I do not own the canon characters, but I do own Elizabeth, Abby, Benjamin, and Thistle.

Part 2

Chapter 1- Coming home again.

Warnings- None

Word count-2,078

The song used in the story can be found here

“Go Belstram I'll hold them off!” I yelled to the young man beside me, though we were so close, our voices were faint amongst the roar of our enemies.

“I can't leave you here Elizabeth!” He yelled back, stabbing yet another foe.

“You have to! I'll hold them off, you complete our mission! Now go!” I yelled, pushing further into the throw of enemies, if their attention was on me, Belstram could escape easily. My axe came in contact with enemy after enemy, one blow after another as I watched the crowd begin to thin, but it was not without price. My body began to tire of blocking blows from every angle, and just as I sidestepped one sword, I had to block another. But alas...A sweet sound rang through the air, one louder than the roar of enemies I found myself amongst...The victory horn.

“Not again!” One of the men cried out, all of our weapons lowering, the ones who had “died” stood from their fallen places upon the ground, some mumbling curses, some patting my shoulder and saying “good game”, yes, good game.

“Who knew capture the flag could be so brutal” my friend Abby or “Ava” as she was known in our larp group, said as she walked up to me, water bottle in hand.

“Well when we both want to win,I suppose it can get competitive” I laughed, nodding my thanks as I took the bottle and drank.

Benjamin or “Belstram” soon came jogging up to us while we made our way back to our camp.

“You did it!” Abby cheered, jumping into her boyfriend's arms.

“I had to protect my queen, if they would have gotten our flag, they would have gotten you” He replied before leaning down to kiss her.

“Please excuse me, your majesty, I must go before I lose my lunch” I laughed while making my way to the woods for our next game.

“Are we 23 or just 5 Elizabeth?” Abby called after me, laughter in her voice.

“I don't know, are we 23 or 15?” I called back before disappearing into the brush. Abby and I had been friends for several years, but it's only the past three years that I have been part of her LARP scene. The factions that usually partook in the event were the Orcs, Humans, Dwarves, and Elves…Abby, or rather, “Ava” is the Elvish queen, and though my character is only human, I am in the Elvish faction, though you will find other races scattered amongst the other factions, except the Orcs...Nor will you find any Elves on the Dwarf faction and vice-versa.

Games usually consisted of all out battles, Capture the flag, Raids, and my favorite...Quest of Glory. A game where the brave follow quests given to them by “NPCs” where they must battle a tiered party member before advancing...Why is this my favorite? Simple, as a high ranking party member, I'm the last they battle before going to Abby, and it's rare that people get that far, So I get to rest.

Climbing into my claimed spot, aka a 100 year old tree that resided on the oldest trail in our state park, I made myself comfortable and waited...Maybe drifting off into a light sleep.

“The journey's over; another's just begun

Beneath moonlight, but by the warming sun

I seek to hold you in sunshine or rain

Beneath the heavens, I'm coming home again”

The soft tune drifted along the wind that blew past, and though I hadn't heard the voice or song before, I chalked it up to just another player singing.

“So far we drifted, like ships upon the sea

Horizons fading, we lost to destiny

Storm clouds hover; our vanity like pain

Which held back the winds that bring us home again”

The song struck a strange cord within me, it was almost...familiar...and yet I knew that I had never heard it before. I watched as scenery flashed behind my eyelids, an open field of lush green grass, small mounds adorning it, and upon closer inspection, the mounds had windows to the houses that resided inside. Next a beautiful waterfall that ran alongside a breathtaking city, finely sculptured architecture making it stand out from the trees that dotted the land...And lastly...A mountain, tall and intimidating, yet the face of it showed detailed and beautiful stonework, two large statues of dwarves flanked the entrance.

“What are these places?” my mind wondered as I stared at the scenery in my mind, but my vision was soon disrupted by another voice, this one male, a soft sweet tone that spoke in only a whisper.

“amrâlimê” the voice was so quiet, almost as if the person didn't want to be heard, or hadn't meant to say it. But the tone was so full of longing, and a promise of happiness.

“ Could I see, now, the swallows in their flight

Watch the moon dance on oceans in the night

The trees reach upward to help the birds to fly

And of the creatures who'll hear them when they cry”

The scene changed once more, to that of a deep and dark forest, a forest that seemed old as if time itself never touched it...And yet it felt very...Alive.

“We walk the hillside like lost souls in the night

And in the darkness, we're searching for the light

And in the morning, like freshly fallen dew

Much like a moon's breath, I'm coming home to you”

From the dark of the forest a soft orange glow took over, the crackle of a fire could be heard before I swear I felt a light kiss being pressed to my cheek.

“amrâlimê” the voice whispered again, so sincere, so full of admiration, a tone that would be reserved for a lover.

“This journey's over; another's just begun

Beneath moonlight or by the warming sun

For I remember that if my heart be true

Just like an eagle, I'm coming home to you”

A snow covered landscape came into view, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. Not from the cold scenery, but from the dread that made my stomach uneasy.

“amrâlimê” The voice whispered one last time, the tone stained and faded at the end, as if spoke with a final breath.

“NO!” I yelled, bolting upward into a sitting position amongst the tree limbs.

“What?” I reached up and felt my cheek and the hot tears that rolled down it.

“No” I whispered, unable to fathom why a simple voice made my heart feel like it had been torn from my chest.

“Interesting...You saw it too” A female voice spoke, startling me and causing me to turn my head towards the voice.

“Who's there?” I asked upon not seeing anyone anywhere.

“I wonder...If you could be the one?” The voice spoke again, this time the voice came from the other side. Upon looking around, I was only met with the same forest I had been in...alone.

“Show yourself!” I demanded, standing up and balancing on the branches.

“Feisty one aren't you?” The woman giggled, the voice now in front of me as a woman stepped out from between the trees. Her pale skin was covered loosely by sheer green fabric that pooled around her bare feet, her smile and face were youthful, but the wisdom in her Lilac eyes made her appear older. Her short green hair did nothing to hide the long pointed ears, and I wondered how I hadn't seen this girl on the battlefield earlier, surely she couldn't fight much with that long of a dress.

“Who are you?” I asked, her smile only grew, and in a blink...she was in front of me. I stepped back, my hand grabbing at a branch to steady myself.

“W-What? How?”

“My name is Thistle, and I'm a forest Nymph, on a mission from Yavanna to find the one, and I think you are who I am looking for” the girl smiled.

“A forest...Yav….what?” The girl simply rolled her eyes at my confusion, as if everything she just said was the simplest thing that I should be able to grasp.

“You saw the visions did you not?” she asked, my mind flashing back to the different scenery.

“The different landscapes?” I asked, to which she happily nodded.

“Those are places in my world, if you were able to see them that means that you are connected to my world, and so far, you are the only one of your world that I have found that has seen them.

“How long have you been looking?” I asked, Thistle stopped for a moment, her finger resting on her chin while she thought.

“How old is your world again? I've honestly lost count of the years” she replied.

“Holy hell” I breathed, was this really happening? Or was I dreaming right now.

Wait.

“Whose voice was that?” I asked, remembering the soft whispers.

“Singing? That was me” she beamed before adding.

“I know, I have an enchanting voice don't I?”

“Well yes” I laughed

“But I meant the man's voice”

“Man's voice?” She asked, her expression just as confused as mine.

“Yes the man whispering that word...Am...Amra-lime...I'm not sure how to say it right.” I told her now beaming face.

“I don't know to be honest, but if you also heard a voice that surely confirms that you are indeed who I am looking for!”

“To do what?” I asked

“You have told me nothing besides your name, who sent you, and that you are here to find someone” I added.

“I...I don't know” she confessed, her smile falling.

“I was simply told to find the one and bring them to our world, that it was very important for our future” she replied, looking like a small child who had been reprimanded by a parent.

“Our?” I asked

“The forest”

“Oh”

“Please come with me, I know that you are who I have been searching for!” Thistle begged. I looked into her pleading Lilac eyes for a moment before looking around. Go to another world? My family, my home was here though...My parents...Who were always visiting family that lived out of state...My brothers who...Had their own families and lives...My friends who...I really only saw during our larp events...Oh…

“amrâlimê” That sweet whisper rang in my head, a promise that perhaps...perhaps there was a reason I always felt off in this world, perhaps my happiness was somewhere else.

“When would you like to leave?” I asked, turning back to Thistle, her pleading expression turned into one of pure glee.

“Right now would be good, just try not to scream” she replied.

“Scream? Why would I scREAM?!” I yelled as I felt the branch move out from under my feet causing me to fall backwards. I waited to hit the hard ground, but I just kept falling..Surely I should have hit the ground by now shouldn't I? So why hadn't...Suddenly a hard impact struck my back and I felt the air leave my lungs...Ah..There was the ground.

Opening my eyes I gasped for breath and noticed that I was next to the tree I had been sitting in...But I was not alone, nor was I in the same forest.

“Thistle...Who is this?” A large tree...creature spoke, his golden eyes bore into mine and as I found my lungs filling with air, I tried not to scream.

“I finally found the one!” Thistle beamed as she stood beside me.

“This is the one?” The tree asked.

“Yes Treebeard, I know she doesn't look like much, but she saw the visions..and also...she heard a voice from this world” she replied, whispering the last bit rather loudly.

“Hmm” the tree hummed as he reached out and grabbed me, the scream escaped me before I even thought about it...well..looks like I couldn't keep it in.

“Loud one isn't she?” He asked sitting me upright.

“Yeah she is” Thistle giggled before looking at the tree she called Treebeard.

“So, should we start her training now?”

“It would be wise” Treebeard stated

“After all, we only have a couple of years as of now according to Yavanna” he added

“Training?” I asked, finally finding my voice

“For what?”

“Your destiny!” Thistle smiled.

Thank you all for reading! I hope you all enjoyed the story, let me know what you think 😊

#the hobbit #fili x oc #fili #kili x tauriel #thorin x bilbo #kili #thorin #original female character #fili x human #druid #original story #chapter 1 #of wood and steel #fili imagine #fili drabble

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imaginekitharington · 7 years

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Hi! I recently came across your page and think your an awesome writer. Little nervous to ask but could it be possible to write one where Kit tries to make you say you love him during sex but you can't. Tells you how much he loves you while you sleep and you blurt out that you love him in an argument the next day. Thanks 😊.

A/N: First of all, I want to say thank you to my followers that have persisted to follow this blog and send in requests in my ridiculous absence. In my attempts to work on my personal projects, I put aside my Imagine blogs (I have two others) and focus on my own projects. But life gets in the way and I slowly found my productivity dissipating. In an effort to continue and satisfy all of you that have stuck around, I will be continuing IKH. I apologize for keeping you all held out for so long, and to keep flexing my writing muscle there will be more posts in the future. Thank you all for your kind words, it has truly been a jolt of inspiration to come back to your love! While writing smut-fics is sometimes uncomfortable, I most definitely owe it to the readers that have asked. I hope you enjoy, I am a little rusty.

——

When the lights shut out there was nothing but a solid succession of silence between the walls of your flat, the softest sheets of rain against the window, and a howl of the wind’s might every now and then. With the TV and cable box now pitch black and dead, the two of you sat further into the couch.

“Well, I guess we won’t be finishing that tonight.”

On the couch, you and Kit had found a comfortable tangle beneath the protection of your favorite blanket. The central air had given out from pumping cool air to your atmosphere, and just like a scene in some apocalyptic horror movie the streets beyond your windows when dark.

You had stood on bare feet and padded over to the window to check that the streetlights were still working when you turned back to Kit on the couch.

“Blown transformer or alien death ship?”

As casual as ever, his shoulders rose and fell as he stood, stretching his arms high and straight to the corners of the room with a yawn, “Alien death ship, I bet. Candles?”

With an almost solemn pout, you nodded, “Candles. I have no idea where the flashlights are.”

“No flashlights, but an armada of candles. Our priorities are prime.”

You shove him aside as you head to the kitchen and begin to sprawl out your collection atop the counter. A battalion of vanillas, a fleet of fresh cotton, a squadron of peaches and mangoes alike, and a small garrison of cinnamon. With only the faint light of the moon to guide you, Kit insisted on lighting the candles. One by one, using only the short lighters he carried around, the flat flickered back to life by the light of small candles on safe surfaces in each room.

The two of you spent the next ten minutes trying to find something to do.

You started with cards, a short game of rummy here and an attempt at poker there, but the dim light wasn’t enough to check the other’s poker faces and interest was steadily as lost as the electricity in your neighborhood.

Boardgames were an idea, but being that they were in basement storage it seemed a bit fruitless to navigate a darkened apartment building just to rescue Monopoly from the clutches of your horror-inducing basement (complete with all the creaks and claustrophobia one could ask for).

So instead, you two settled to lie in bedroom until a better idea came to you. Kit lingered in the kitchen to grab water bottles for the two of you while you sauntered to your bedroom. Larger windows meant a fraction more moonlight trying it’s hardest to touch your bed, but falling just short. Instead the candle light made up the distance, flicking and stretching as it swallowed the wick an inch by the second.

The loss of the central air mean that the habitual heat of your apartment would clutch you soon enough, fueled all the more by the abundance of candles and challenged none by the ceiling fan seemingly frozen in time.

At the foot of your bed, you peel the maroon sweatshirt from your body,tossing it in the hamper with your shorts and moving to comfort your bones with the mattress beneath you. It felt a little better in your underwear, but you always preferred the cold.

You close your eyes aligning your back with the surface beneath you, and begging your muscles to readjust their relaxation to spread elsewhere but it just wasn’t enough yet.

“Comfortable?”

“I would be if you would just join me already.”

When close enough to the bed he tossed the water bottle to you and the frigid cold jilted your senses as it kissed your skin. You hummed pressing the plastic to your head and stomach for a moment before cracking it open and taking a few mouthfuls.

Without even looking at him you knew exactly what he’d been doing; peeling off his own shirt and sweats to feed the hamper but settling in the bed on what had become his side. For a moment the two of you just laid back, faces towards the ceiling, eyes closed and breathing. In the center, your fingertips kissed, gently moving against one another’s each second.

“My sister called me today. She wants me to visit her in the city a next month, the family is getting together for my Pa’s birthday just before she goes on vacation.”

He’s quiet and you know exactly why. Your move to London didn’t exactly go without a hitch when it came to your family. Despite the fact that you are well beyond the age where your parents make decisions for you, a continental move towards a man you’d never introduced them to was a hulking, flame-infested red flag and they certainly were not quiet about it.

Divorced since age sixteen, this issue was the closest you’d seen your parents align since you’d begged them to let you get an elaborate eyebrow ring when you were sixteen. Credit was due for that one. In hindsight, you were glad they stopped you, but your life here with Kit was a topic they knew absolutely nothing about.

With the exception of the storm tonight, there was nothing about your life with Kit that you’d have changed. It was your choice not to mention your relationship with Kit for so long, and it was your decision not to introduce him to them as well. Neither of which you regretted. Even during your foray into adulthood, the leash your parents had kept on you did not let up. This move to London was inevitable for work, the decision to move in with Kit was your own and in your mind, there was no need for an explanation. You are a grown woman, gifted with the opportunity to mold your own life, and unfortunately you can’t make a smooth, beautiful structure with pieces that won’t bend.

“Hello? Are you in there?”

Shit, he’d been talking to you this whole time.

“I’m sorry, love, say again?”

Leaning on bent elbow, hand propping up his head and watching you intently. His eyebrows were high and knitted together.

“I said,” he started taking a shallow breath in, and moving his finger to your shoulder, softly hooking your bra strap and flattening it’s cross, “I think you should go.”

“You always say that.”

“I know. Have you thought a bit about why?”

“No, and for a pretty-”

“Shitty reason.”

Now it was your turn to narrow your eyebrows. Almost without thought you swatted his hand from your shoulder as you sat up to face him, “Go on.”

Kit watched you for a moment as if trying to gauge how annoyed you were getting with him at this very moment so he could stutter-step his way into an explanation that you would actually consider. He shifted his head back to the pillow, going back to start and facing the ceiling with eyes closed.

“Don’t let them continue to believe you coming over here was a bad decision. Cutting yourself off from them all is just reinforcing the idea,” he turns over to look at you, “Your sister is just trying to hold on the best way she knows how. She even offered to come out here just to see you. I know you’re caught in your own feelings about the way things went when you left, but it’s worth it to try again. They’re your family. Go back, and show them how you’re really doing. If you’re happy, maybe they’ll be happy for you. And if not, then you can cut them off just how you want.”

You stared him down with narrowed brows, you hated when he was right, but he truly was. Your eyes dropped down to your hands, and you sucked your teeth.

“That’s a long way to fly just to realize that I should’ve stayed behind with you until you leave.”

He laughs one of disbelief at you and rolls his eyes, “You are so fucking stubborn.”

“No, I just don’t want to waste time I could’ve spent enjoying the company of someone I really do care about before they leave for however many months in exchange for a week being ridiculed for making a quote ‘decision drenched in girly lunacy’. I’m done being spoken to like a sixteen year-old, I’m 31 years-old.”

That laugh came again and now you were rea pissed off.

“And how many times have you told me that your sister isn’t like them?”

“Plenty, but I don’t want her knowing my business either.”

“Is that fair?”

No, it wasn’t. You knew you were being childish, but this wasn’t something you wanted to do. You did it again, he would tell you once he realized it too, that you were looking for an argument. Throwing a topic into the air looking for someone to back you up to make you feel better, but the more he talked (more than he’d ever spoke in relation to your family), the more you know he was right. He was usually right, except when he was being a jackass which, most of the time, was after alcohol had reached his system.

“I really don’t like you right now.”

“Yeah, because you’re acting like a sixteen year-old.”

Now you were glaring and you could tell. You palms were beginning to sweat and you could feel your ears getting hot. His eyes were dead set on you, watching you on the verge of an eruption, but instead you took a breath in and pushed it back out.

“You’re right,” your shoulders were clenched if it were ever possible, you were nearly grinding your teeth and everything about your upper body was strained until this moment, “I should go. If not for them, then for her.”

“Yeah, you should, and don’t be so testy when you get there. You’re a ticking time bomb. And if you use me as an excuse not to go at the very last moment, I’m going to be really upset with you,” his hand found your knee as you leaned back on the king-sized mattress and gazed up at the ceiling fan, just wishing that any moment now it would flick back on.

All you did was throw him a thumbs-up from here you laid. You closed your eyes against the pillow top and took another breath in, each scent from the lit candles hitting you at once, all hoping to find a warmth like the candle they come from within you. It helped you relax a bit, and as the thunder cracked again you reached over for his hand.

Like long before you were inspired by the storm to wreak intended havoc on an otherwise peaceful night, now you seemed to seek resolution.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, the tips of your fingers dancing together until they grew tired and tangled in a rest.

“Don’t be.”

“But I was a jerk.”

“I’m a jerk sometimes, and you check me too.”

You sit up and shift over to where he lay, laying over him like a blanket, resting your head just beside his neck. The edges of your lips stretched wide as you could hear the pace of his heart thumping heavily and feel yours pumping quick until eventually they both slowed damn near harmony.

This was where you wanted to be. Going back to the states to visit your family wasn’t high on your 'To-Do List’, but it had to be done. All you wanted was just not to lose a week of this in exchange.

You turned your head, you opposite hand resting against the neck that you pressed your lips to. From nape to jaw, your lips traced a trail until you could feel his hand against the back of your shoulder. A grin ghosted against your lips as those same fingertips trailed along your blade until you pulled yourself up just enough so to shift to a straddle. Between your hands, the shadow of his beard was soft against your hands and you guided eager lips together for a dance.

Kissing him each time was something so sensual, so refreshing, and fulfilling. No touch was the same as the last, as if each were predestined to illicit some uncovered feeling to the surface of your skin. While you felt you could only offer the same few tricks, he came back to you every time with something all the more intriguing, finding new ways to show you just how he felt without utter a word.

So all you could do was coax the moment, keep up with his strides, and pick up a trick on the way. Each time you felt as if there was more you could, each time he drank you, he left only the littlest reserve for you to recover, taking all you had.

You lips moved in slower strokes, teeth taking his lip for you tongue to trace as you backed away, but he never let you. His hand always found the back of your neck and pulled you back in, tongue taking it’s turn to stroke yours, twisting in ways that seemed improbable, but remembering to allow his lips to romance you. It was an important factor you and you saw time and time again that he made an effort to avoid shoving his tongue straight into your mouth like you remember so many of your exes doing in the old days.

Your tongues tangled in a cyclone as his freehand on your hip pushed you into him, your own hips pressing down a little extra just for him. He groaned in your mouth overtaking you all the more. Your hands departed his face to press against your headboard and push the two of you apart. From atop his lip, you grinned, hooking your fingers against his neck and pulling him back and on top of you. Your head leaned to the edge of the bed, exposing the full length of your neck to him, but he didn’t take the bait.

Instead his hand ran over your thighs as he settled between your legs, his fingers trailing slowly along the lining of your underwear. In the thick of your bedroom’s heat, he stared you down and a chill spread down you spine to your hips until you lifted them just enough for the garment to fall away with his touch. There’s a twitch in his lips as they drop to the floor and your bra slipped away just as quick.

The thunder cracked again but you didn’t even hear it. There was no sound but your direct vicinity, no storm outside, no gentle wicks cracking beneath the heat of the flame, no heavy breaths, just your skins meeting in every attempt to fuse together. His final garment slipped to the dark oblivion on your floor and your bed sighed just as you did at the feel of his touch on your thighs.

Your hands fought each others’ grasp until they became tangled in each other. You sat up to move on him, and press your waists together once more then your hand took him firm. Trailing along the entry toward his shelter from the rain, guiding all around for the sensation it produced causing your breaths to catch in your throat. You head rolled back and he kissed your neck, letting his own hand rest over yours and slide into you smoothly.

He fills you like water until there isn’t a part of you he hasn’t touched, pulling out to do it all over again. You held him to keep you steady until his hands reach around to your back and you roll against his touch, swirl into his penetration. You take him to the brim and stop, clenching your walls to tell him this is exactly where you both belong.

Like fire on the wick, you engulf one another repeatedly until each time felt like there was no other option but an explosion.

“Yes,” you panted, pulling your faces far enough just to see one another. Your eyes met molten brown and they stared you down as your bodies burn for more fire. You rolled over to take control, sitting atop him and using his hands as leverage in your attack. Quick until his breaths grew labored, and slow to bring them back to speed. Grips on your sides, thighs and ass got rougher, trying to manipulate as best as he could from his position until his own hips reached up to grasp the distances you’ve held him from. When he tried too hard you just pull away again, and his head pressed back against the pillow in a pleasant frustration, audible in the groan he shot at you.

“You’re so mean,” he told you, resigning his hands to trail your sides. When it came to battles like these, you were, but he was cruel as well. You knew he’d show you those colors if you gave him the chance, but that moment was yours to exact your own form of torture in the way you saw fit. Your game was always to tease him, give him a taste of the full show, and spent act two and most of act three building the tension for his finale. Sometimes you didn’t even let him get that, and right at that moment, you hadn’t decided.

The smirk on your lips told him that you were enjoying ever second of his tormented bliss, and when you flicked your hips at him that way he knew you were only getting started. You rested your hands on his chest, using a forehand to sweep your hair over your back and keep yourself going.

But every once in a while a road block comes in the way in the form of the involuntary tightening in your thigh.

“Ow, Charlie Horse, fuck,” you murmur, and straighten your spine, hand shooting to your thing to massage and calm the muscle there.

He laughs aloud at you and is quick to sit up and flip you to your back.

“You’re mine now.”

“Wait, just give me a second,” you sat up a bit, trying to coax the stiffness away, but he grabbed your hand in the attempt.

“Oh no, I’ll take care of that for you, love.”

You recognized that shit-eating grin of his, it popped up at moments like these and lingered for longer than it was welcome. He settled in between your legs, his hand reaching down to your thigh, stroking the muscle he could feel had clenched up until it relaxed. When it did, he peered up at you with a grin, his face slipping lower and lower until you could feel his lips spreading over the skin, kisses and touches from his tongue started low. Traveled they did, until they reached your gateway, parted the doors, his tongue stroking your center and slipping through the threshold to taste you.

“You’re cruel, you know that?” your voice was a hum to him, egging him on and when you looked down you saw that gaze again and realize that your wick was nearing its’ end. Your breath caught in your throat, fingers melded with the curls atop his head, “Deeper.”

He chuckled below and took your request for its’ truth. Your breath went deep, and caught that tickle and you held for the ride. Your free hand takes the bedspread in your grasps so tight that knuckles turn to match to moon.

When he felt your walls close in, saw your chest begin to race he pulled back from you, wiping his face and descending to you once again. Your eyes fluttered at him, flickering like the light of the candles and as positioned himself over you with that lopsided smile, you thought he might undo you at that very moment. But he wasn’t done yet.

He lifted one of your legs to his hands and pressed into you once more, you realize that you’d missed him the entire time. His freehand rests against your face gently at first, tips of his fingers moving over the landscape of your features as his waves were gentle. Kit holds your gaze solid and you yearn to feel his lips. He hit that spot and your eyes close as you moaned for him, he smirked, taking your chin rough and commanding, “Look at me.”

You eyes fluttered back to the smolder that takes ever centimeter from your wick that’s left, hips pressing with a grander force than before and your mouth opened for his delight. He slipped from inside you and dipped his fingers in you quickly, pulling them out placing them on your tongue. You grinned a little and grabbed his hand, closing your lips over his fingers and sucking them dry. His mouth opened, he twitched against your thing. His hand slides himself back inside you and you knew that act three had come.

His arm scooped around your abdomen and hugged you close, his free hand resting on your jaw as you could feel both wicks on their final burn. His strokes had purpose, like a painter opening the flood gates for his emotion against canvas, long and forceful you both began to curl around one another in attempt to close whatever space was left. The fire pushed from your insides out to your skin, pressing against one another and setting one another ablaze. His forehead pressed on yours and in one final twist, you rolled him over and slammed yourself down on him.

“Fuck,” he uttered and you dropped low to his level, keep the same pace he had set before. His hands grasped at your sides, until he grew restless once more and rolled to your side and over again until he seemed satisfied to align against your side. You lifted a leg, and he slipped into you once more, his hand busying itself with playing you like his favorite instrument. His head settled against the back of your neck, lips kissing and biting at your sides and shoulder.

You clenched against him once more and the both of you moaned for the fire itching at your skin, praying for it to finally engulf you both. Your hand reaches back around to him, begging him closer.

But he’d been done with begging, done with teasing and name-calling. He reached for your neck, turning your gaze to his eyes once more and then as you clenched on him again and the flame took you both whole. You watch the fire pop in his eyes as the both of quake from the burn.

Your breaths got harsh, fanning your lips until all that was left was the smoke curling from your lips as you kissed. Once more you curled into one another, your body turning back to him as you tangled yourselves again. Your head found it’s place in the crevice of his neck, just far enough to breathe and close enough to feel your sweat fuse. Your arms found their way around him in a comfortable position and his own fill the empty space. His fingers were in your hair and on your shoulder, smoothing your hair and tracing shapes.

And when you felt the sleep crawling from your toes to your face, you heard him say it as bold as the thunder struck, “I love you, so much.” You feigned sleep that night, but even after the calm of his breathing told you, it had taken him over, it never came for you.

——

It was 3:46 in the morning. The power had come back on, the house grew cold again, but despite the comfort, you still couldn’t find rest.

What had you expected? A cross-continent move, up-rooting of your life, almost three years of dating so that he could stay as someone you ate, slept, showered, and fucked with? No. Maybe a little more, but love?

The idea wasn’t off-putting, someone like Kit being in love with you was a picture perfect dream, but you couldn’t help but feel like you were still on the roller coaster upwards, love only plateaued the ride. Where else was there to go from there, marriage, children? You could barely remember to feed yourself properly every day. Yogurt wasn’t a solid breakfast, take-out wasn’t logical for dinner most nights of the week, and budgeting for an extra tiny, very needy human being? Love was the peak of human interaction, but where did things go from there.

You watched below, hoping for someone to walk along the sidewalks so that maybe you could think about their life instead of choices that yours were giving you.

“What are you doing?”

He scared the living shit out of you. Standing in the door way, boxers on backwards, sleeping stuck on his eyes no matter how hard he rubbed it away. He was fucking adorable, and you were hating him right now for it.

“Why would you do this to us?”

It was a confusing question sure, but he looked thoroughly lost.

“It’s like 4 am, love. You’re going to have to spell this out for me.”

“Tell me you don’t mean it.”

He took a step further into the living room, towards where you stood with knitted brows and a sour face.

“I’m really lost.”

“You said you loved me, I heard you.”

Now he understood, and for a moment, he is almost bashful with his smile but it fades just as quickly as it came.

“What do you mean 'why would I do this to us’?” he did that laugh again, the one that made your hair stand on end. This time you’re not so keen on meeting his gaze, it’s hurt, you should’ve known it would’ve been, “Why would I not mean it if I said it?”

“You’ve doomed us.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He shakes his head, his hang sweeping roughly over his face, “If we’re not in love, then please tell me what the hell we’ve been doing for the past three years.”

“Two and a half.”

“Stop it.”

He’s really angry.

“What now, then? I say it back and we go skipping off to sunset? You know what happens when things get to this point, don’t you? It’s our plateau.”

“Says who?” He’s screaming now, hands shaking and all I can do is watch. I’ve hurt him deeply, but love makes people stupid, blind, comfortable.

“It’s what happens when I fall in love.”

He sits down on the couch, and puts his hands on his face as he looks at me.

“Have you moved to another continent for many men?”

Silence.

“Have you preferred the company of one man over the company of family often?”

Silence.

“Have you lived with another man, shared bed, food, shower, and clothes with another man for three years before? And so help me god, our anniversary is two weeks from now, please don’t insult me any further.”

Silence.

He stood from the couch and walked briskly over to where you stood before the window. He took your hand.

“Have you felt about another man the way that you feel about me? Have they known you like I do?”

Your head shook, but he knew the answer already. His grasp finds your chin and your eyes have nowhere to run, “Then I need you to tell me that you don’t love me.”

But you can’t, and you don’t. Instead, you reach forward for his lips, but he doesn’t let you.

“I’ve come too far, sacrificed too much for something that’s not real. I do love you, much more than I deserve to, but I’m fucked up and way away from the world you live in. I don’t want to wake up one day here and realize that I’ve been caught blind. I can’t do it.”

“I’m not going to hurt you. But I need to know you won’t hurt me too. I’m not impenetrable, and honestly, if you think love is the end all for relationships, you have a lot to learn.”

He cracks a small grin and kisses you deeply.

“Teach me then.”

“Oh, I will. Now, please, come back to bed and try not to give me heart failure again.”

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