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leviiattacks · 3 years

Note

ceo levi falling in love?

author note :: THIS WAS SM FUN TO WRITE?? levi in the modern world is just always enjoyable for me. anyways it’s just lots of shy ceo levi and secretary reader :-) as always requests are open feel free to stop by !! :D word count :: some how i got to 2.4k,,,, i promise it was an accident it doesn’t feel that long

levi falls in love slowly. he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until he looks at you one day during a company meeting and is unable to understand why he can’t take his eyes off you

usually he’s able to shift his focus away but he’s stuck in place despite his efforts to look away

the entire meeting is him occasionally humming his approval at all the proposals and prospective business plans being presented to him

when, truly he is NOT listening at all. he’s trying to figure out when the hell and why the hell he began to feel this way for you.

it gets to a point where he’s so distracted over it he ends the team meeting early

everyone in the room exchanges worried glances between each other.

mr ackerman, letting them leave early? that’s a first but HEY!! they’ll take it!!

as everyone disperses out of the room he’s sitting with his back hunched in his plush office chair when he then comes to the realization that he has no idea when he did fall for you,,,,, it just sorta happened????

well, you are basically around him 24/7 and help him with everything but, his newfound feelings still catch him by surprise

at first he’s scared. the feeling is odd and the way his chest tightens as he speaks to you doesn’t feel right at all.

“any specific type of tea for today?” you ask waiting for his response

the rope squeezes at his heart and he squirms around a little.

“u-um, the usual is just fine”

WHY DID HE TRIP OVER HIS WORDS...??

WHY...????

but AGAIN he ignores it, he knows it’s for the best if he doesn’t get emotionally involved with you.

for the record, levi’s definition of emotionally involved is dating you, he doesn’t know that despite not dating you he is very much still emotionally involved with you

he’s pretty good at hiding his feelings though and the fact he likes you goes unnoticed by literally everyone

well, it does stay that way for a little while

that is until someone else expresses interest in you.

it’s a normal friday evening but for some unknown reason he can’t stop himself from clenching his jaw when he walks past you and overhears jean the new head of marketing ask if you’re single

levi is stood behind you and turns to hand his chilling stare to jean who slowly notices. he looks like his knees are about to buckle. “?,&:£:& sorry for asking,,, i’ll...... get going......”

levi just grunts in annoyance glaring at him even as he scurries out the hallway.

you turn to look at him and happily smile “ahhh thank you, i didn’t know how to turn him down he just joined the team so you know, it was weird he asked that”

levi just nods and tells you to get back to work and he hears you squeak out a “yepyepyep!!!”

levi is also very in denial about the way he feels

one day it’ll be “yeah i like y/n” the next it’s “no i do not...that is literally SO stupid. me??? in love?? never.”

also, when you accidentally brush past his skin he can’t help but tense up slightly and look anywhere but where you’re touching him

one time you place a hand on his forehead to check on his temperature because you do not trust him to be honest about having a fever

the scent of your vanilla perfume it’s sweet and simple but it makes him feel incredibly shy for no reason at all

GOD.

he feels like a stupid flustered school boy

ALL THIS OVER SOME PERFUME??

the man can’t even handle looking you in the eye. he’s reading his paperwork acting as nonchalant as possible when he’s really just freaking out

is my forehead sweaty?

fuck, fuck, fuck how do i look up close?

his thoughts are so jumbled up he doesn’t know how to respond to you when you ask if he’s really doing okay

“your cheeks are bright red, maybe you do have a fever?” you’re frowning and rummaging through your bag hoping to find something to help his pounding headache

but all he’s doing as he sits at his desk is nervously opening and closing his pen by the lid

he can’t tell if his face is red because he’s ill or because he likes you

and it’s driving him CRAZY??

wait a second.

does he like you? or does he like-like you?? or does he lo- no he does not love you that is absurd

what really cements his feelings for you is the day he’s unable to reel his mouth back in.

he just starts rambling about everything that has been stressing him out recently

the new company merger, developing new product designs, reviewing humongous stacks of paperwork, attending all these long meetings

he is being driven to his breaking point and you stand there taking it all in

“hey, take the day off.” your soft voice cuts him off mid sentence and he looks at you like you just told him to curl up into a ball and die

take a day off???? he does not have the time to take a day off??

he assumes you’re frustrated by his behaviour and begins to apologize. “i’m sorry that was unprofessional i shouldn’t have don-”

“i’ll finish the paperwork. your next meeting is scheduled for tomorrow. it’s okay to take a breather.” you pick up the stack of documents and move to transfer them over to your desk

but levi is persistent.

he stands in your way and you look at him expecting him to step out

“there is no need for that.” his tone is firm but you’re still defiant

“it’s my job as your secretary to alleviate your workload.” you don’t even spare him a glance and he feels like he’s burdening you now

sure, you are his secretary but allowing you to complete all that work on your own is ludicrous

waltzing around him you beeline towards your desk but again he steps in your way interjecting your path

“lev-”

your face morphs into a mortified expression and you panic, you did not just call him by his first name AT WORK

“i mean,” [insert an anxious yet deliberate cough] “mr ackerman.”

“listen, i understand you’re very stressed sir but i’ll finish the work off so please rest up. you need to be refreshed for tomorrow’s company dinner with the investors.”

you’re pleading he takes your advice but all he can do is blink in confusion

you would do that for him???

are you really just diligent and caring or,,, does he maybe have a chance at asking you out?

but again as quick as the idea enters his head it leaves.

asking you out sounds absurd to him, you deserve way better than someone like him

levi is having another one of his jealous moments

you’ve latched yourself onto reiner braun’s arm at the company dinner and he turns away frustrated

you look really pretty

like,,, sUPER pretty

like,,, drop dead gorgeous

he clears his throat when you both make eye contact

you perk up a little and your hand raises to wave at him but levi is so horrible at interacting with you he ends up ignoring you completely...

the pit of fire in his stomach flares up when he hears reiner compliment you, he’s surprised you even accept it and thank him

now, levi is not annoyed because you don’t deserve the compliment.

no, no, no you deserve all the compliments under the sun as far as he’s concerned but what the hell does “you look way better than normal.” even mean??

he thinks you look pretty every day so he’s just a tad bit offended by it

and he only begins to realize he’s in too deep when he sees the way reiner is getting a little too handsy for his liking

he doesn’t interrupt by saying anything even though he really wants to, you seem to not mind reiner’s touch

so he won’t step in between that, it’s not even any of his business

but it certainly doesn’t stop his displeasure from being blatantly obvious and displayed on his face

“ahhh mr ackerman, if it isn’t a pleasure to see you?”

levi hears an investor greet him but his eyes are glued on you.

you’re laughing so hard at one of braun’s jokes and he feels the same flame in his stomach.

it’s rising and reaches his chest igniting once again and he narrows his eyes finally looking away

he’s not going to spare you another glance this entire evening instead he’ll occupy himself with business talk

“mr acker-”

spinning on his heel he twists around and is face to face to with one of his close sponsors erwin smith

he smiles and the two shake hands discussing new company developments and shared work stress before some how shifting to each other's personal lives

“seeing anyone?” erwin’s question makes levi stiffen and his eyes flick towards where you were just standing a while ago

you’re no longer there but he spots you a little further away now sitting alone

you look a little lost and he feels a sudden and strong magnetism

he wants to approach you to talk so badly, and as his eyes scan around the room he sees reiner occupying himself in a suggestive conversation with a lady from HR

she’s definitely trying to flirt and he’s reciprocating easily

oh, so you’ve been ditched...?

is reiner OK???

first the backhanded compliment

now he’s ditching YOU???

it makes levi feel a little angry and frustrated

he doesn’t even notice at first because he’s so deep in thought but erwin leans in to whisper in his ear. “i know that look, go talk to your crush.”

“we’re much too old for you to be using the term crush. it makes it sound childish.” levi grumbles before taking a sip from his wine glass

“i’ll go keep my secretary company. i’ve spoke to most of the other investors it should be okay.” the statement is more of a question but smith nods in response

“it’ll be more than okay, go get em’ tiger!” erwin lands a light punch onto levi’s shoulder and he grins before walking away

to levi’s disappointment he’s unable to speak to you

you end up getting dragged into conversation with some of the other employees and he doesn’t see you again

so much for talking to you, he couldn’t even get within a meters radius

he’s now out on the balcony for a breathe of fresh air, the past few hours have consisted of tedious and forced small talk with an investor’s daughter

her father has been BEGGING levi, even bribing him to consider marrying her but levi rejects every single time

there’s nothing wrong with the girl really

she’s well educated and quite pretty but... that’s all he knows about her?

AND no one beats you, even though he’s still kinda in denial about liking you

hell, not like that part matters he doesn’t even know the girl’s name what does her dad expect from him?

was it sharron? shana? he forgot her name as soon as it was said

much to levi’s dismay he hears an unexpected giggle behind him and then an arm slinks over his shoulder, the investor’s daughter has followed him out and is now pressing her chest against him awaiting a reaction

frankly, he wants to push her off BUT he’ll be in big trouble and lose a key sponsor if he handles this incorrectly

“could you please distance yourself?” he tries to intimidate the younger girl away with the bitter tone of his voice but it only seems to motivate her

“feisty one aren’t you?” she’s looking up at him through her lashes and her poor attempt at looking appealing only makes levi internally face palm

her index finger is drawing circles into his tie and he feels his breath hitch due to how uncomfortable she’s making him

“please move.” he requests for her to listen once again and he’s now taken a step back but she only follows and keeps her firm grip on his tie

she doesn’t seem to be letting up and there’s nothing he can really do about it.

he guesses he’ll just wait till she gets bored but the time passes at an excruciatingly slow rate

in this fifteen minute duration she’s played around with his hair which has SERIOUSLY annoyed him because he took time to style it

and he thought it looked pretty cool

now she’s only pushed and pushed further and further into his chest and he can feel her hot icky breath hit his neck

the veins in his forehead are twitching in expanding irritation and he doesn’t know how much more of this he can tolerate

“you’re making him uncomfortable.” levi’s head snaps to the right and there you are still as beautiful as the last time he saw you

your arms crossed over your chest and you’re looking the girl up and down

“and who might you be?” the way she scoffs seems to be enough to piss you off because your face morphs into a scowl.

big Yikes...you’re mad

“leave him alone.”

“you must be of no importance, we have no time for-”

“step away before i make a report on the grounds of sexual harassment.”

you flip your phone out smirk plastered across your face

“it’s all been recorded. know your place.” you’re unyielding and even levi is thinking??? wow??? you know how to not be nice??? because well, he’s never seen you this mad

just as you expect she barges out in a fury (not before flicking you off), you’ve left her brimming with rage and you feel rather proud of yourself

you release a content sigh

“do i get a raise for saving you or what?” you dryly jab

he’s always loved your straightforward jokes, they align perfectly with his blunt humour

he murmurs his appreciative thanks

“are you enjoying yourself?” he asks the question eager to know what your answer is

it’s another way he knows he’s falling way too deep for his liking

he never asks anyone else these trivial questions

“enjoyable. although reiner is a little.” you pause to find the correct words

“he just made me a little uncomfy, he’s very extroverted so i felt out of place. thankfully he’s preoccupied himself elsewhere.” the same lonely look from before returns to your face

yeah, it is kinda sucky to have your date ditch you

“you don’t have to tolerate-” levi starts then stops.

you’ve leant in to hear him after saying you can’t hear much over the hustle and bustle from inside

“the- i mean- what i’m trying to say is” he looks at you completely stunned trying to piece together what he wants to say

wOWIE!!!! you literally look so stunning up close he can not formulate a sentence, he has officially LOST IT

the words he say next fly out of his mouth after a lengthy internal struggle “fuck. what i’m saying is, what i mean is, you could always come as my date next time.”

now you’re the one looking at him stupefied.

again, he’s looking anywhere but at you

the closest he gets to it is taking a glimpse of your dress,

it’s black and suits you well with the little ruffles and all.

“i’d love that.”

the tips of his ears grow red in embarrassment but... YOU ACCEPTED???

NOW. levi is giddy on the inside but makes no move to make it obvious instead he opts to scratch his neck and give you an awkward thumbs up

you take note of his body language and the possible realization dawns on you

but you can’t really tell if it’s the doing of alcohol

either way you grab onto his suit and begin to lead the way back into the main hall

“may as well start being my date now? not like reiner’s coming back any time soon” he can’t see your face but he can tell you’re smiling as you speak

levi’s cheeks are bright red but he thanks the chilly night air and darkness for hiding the way he’s reacting

he won’t confess just yet, it’s too early and again he’s in major denial but when staring at the hand that holds onto his suit jacket his heart tingles a little

more like a LOT...

but really whatever it is the two of you have got going on right now it weirdly makes the both of you feel weak at the knees

to be honest, levi enjoys it

and so do you :-)

#levi #levi ackerman #aot #snk #levi x reader #levi x y/n #attack on titan levi #attack on titan #levi fluff #leviiattacks #modern levi #ceo levi #levi scenario #levi headcanons #levi fanfiction #aot fanfiction #attack on titan x reader #levi drabbles

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billiedeanhwrd · 3 years

Text

mind is just as frail as it's frame, you know i'd leave it alone

billie dean howard x reader

summary: you're fighting a losing game with your disorder, let's hope it's not too late when your ex-girlfriend shows up in your apartment.

warnings: eating disorders (bulimia), depression, sad ending

word count: 1730

a/n: this is basically a vent i dumped into my notes app in one sitting after not being inspired to write for way too long, so, pls don't judge too harshly and pls DONT READ THIS IF IT COULD TRIGGER YOU

gif credits to @mildredratchds

You had fallen into the dark, deep blue again. Time and time again you fell and you fought your way out, you fell and you picked yourself up again. Not this time though, you were drowning and there was nothing you could do to get back to air. You were trapped in this pool of misery as if it was locked on the surface, and there was no way you were getting out of it by yourself.

The last time it got this bad you had Billie, sweet, sweet Billie, who would've sacrificed her life to help you in any shape or form, but she was gone. Her departure left a cavity in your heart, yet you couldn't be mad at her. She had tried. But you locked her out when you needed her the most. There really was no one else to blame for the decaying of your heart, but you.

Nothing particularly bad happened that would've caused you to spiral this extremely, it was simply the fact that everything was bad, everything is bad, and everything would always be bad. In reality, your problems weren't getting worse, but the continuous strain of having to deal with the same troubles every single day was eating away at your resistance. You could feel the energy and willpower to keep going creeping out of your body, leaving you with the empty shell of who you used to be.

You hadn't talked to Billie in months, after repeated tries to break down your walls and being pushed away every single time, she gave up. You did it, you pushed away the one person who truly cared for you. Your mind was clouded by self-hatred and anguish, it was as if your eyes were shielded by a grey layer, making it impossible for the world to look anything but cold and loveless.

There was not a single thing that could spark up the joyous flame inside you. Nothing was even remotely good anymore. Nothing.

You were here, but at the same time, you weren't. As if you had taken a step back from reality. The feeling of not being real blurring the lines between good and bad. At certain moments the light inside you would flicker, pulling you back and guiding you to the right thing. But it was only a flicker. It was weak and it was temporary. The disordered desire to completely destroy yourself was starting to consume you.

Everything was blurry, the line between good and bad, the one between acceptable and inappropriate and most dangerously the one between you and your illness.

Were these your authentic thoughts or were they caused by a disorder?, was a question you often asked yourself, but never actually answered.

You had long reached past the point of not caring, now you wanted it, actively wanted absolute destruction. You resumed all your old unhealthy coping mechanisms and made no effort to stop your current ones.

Who would really care if you died? no one, at least that's what you made yourself believe.

Total isolation from friends and family was necessary so you could spend all your time focusing on your eating disorder.

Instead of spending your nights in the arms of the woman you loved, you spent them hunched over the toilet, hurling your guts out.

You felt weak and disgusting at all times, nothing about what you were doing was anywhere near glamorous. Well... except if anyone finds choking on your own vomit or all kinds of gross digestive issues glamorous.

You couldn't recognize the girl starring back at you in the mirror, who the hell even was this red-eyed girl? Her puffy cheeks stood out to you immediately. Snot, vomit, and bile were running down her face, probably picking at her skin. And her eyes... well, except for tears and popped blood vessels there was nothing in them. Not a single glimpse of happiness or remains of a person.

It was a heartbreaking sight that left you cold.

Dizzily you walked to your bed, too tired to do anything. The tiny remains of energy you had left you with the content of your stomach.

It was 5 in the evening and you were laying in bed, staring at the spinning ceiling, until your eyes fell shut.

Your friends had contacted Billie, she was the only one who used to be able to help you at least a little bit. She was there for you, always, and she never judged. She stood by you in your darkest times, supportively holding your hand and not letting go even when the going got tough. You were constantly terrified of dragging her down with you, the last thing you wanted was to rob the world of her angelic presence.

She would hold you close when you were down, which was admittedly most days. She would clean your apartment and do your laundry, things you didn't feel like you could do in the state you were in.

She loved you and you loved her.

Of course, you returned the favors, you were there for her as well, but you knew it was different. It was a bigger challenge being with someone so deeply intertwined with their illness, but she still did it.

She was your everything, and you had lost her.

Not only was she your light in this pitch-black hole others called life, but she was also your soulmate. The one you laughed with most. The one who got you, everything about you. You shared a myriad of beautiful moments that outshined any bad time for her. She wanted to marry you one day, of course, you didn't know that until you kicked her out of your apartment and discovered a red, velvet box weeks later when you finally cleaned out her drawer.

You were moody, irritable, impulsive, and horribly depressed. It seemed as if your actions didn't have consequences, life was a game of numbers. Calories in. Calories out. Nothing else mattered.

You felt no remorse when things ended with Billie. The realization only really hit you when you found the 18 carat Tiffany diamond.

For a second your eyes opened wide and your lips curled into a smile, despite having ruined the surprise proposal. Then, boom, it hit you and your heart crumbled. There was no surprise to ruin, anymore. You two were done. She didn't need you, she had moved on, appearing with a new side-piece on the covers of tabloids weekly.

Why would you even care though? You ended things. you could hear a painful laugh erupting from you, you didn't need her, you didn't need anyone, not when you had your innermost nervosa.

Eyes wide and dead, smile big and stiff, you looked horrifying. But what did it matter? Sanity was a hoax anyways.

When your friends called Billie she dropped everything for you, like she always had and always would. The second she heard how you were behaving, her heart rate went sky high. It was happening again, and this time, she wasn't there to throw you a lifejacket, this time, you were drowning on your own.

It was 6 in the evening, and you were laying in your bed, facing the now still-standing ceiling.

Billie chuckled to herself as she used the spare key you hid in your not-so-secret-secret hiding spot to open your front door. The apartment was just how you had left it.

After you had practically inhaled the kitchen until you were painfully full and then, of course, ritualistically aggressively forced your hand down your throat to un-do what just happened. That's what appealed to you about bulimia. The control. Life didn't have an undo button, so you had to create one for yourself. You cheated in the dirtiest games of them all and your pride overthrew every bit of rationality that was left. Not once did the thought "I shouldn't be doing this" enter your mind, this was after all normal to you, blurry, but normal.

It doesn't work that way though, you can't undo anything or cheat your way through life just because you're unable to give up control. And a part of you knew that, a part of you wanted to listen to what your therapist had told you. She was right, you could drop dead at any second, the chances of having a sudden heart attack rising after every heave.

The smell of vomit invaded the medium's nose when the door creaked open, and her heart sunk. She wanted so badly to help you through this, stand by you, and overcome this with you, but you wouldn't let her. You made it impossible for her to be apart of your life. She had no energy to keep up the fight and so she left, like you wanted her to, like you said you wanted her to.

She called out your name. no response. you must be asleep somewhere, she thought. Your ex-girlfriend made her way through the food packages and dirty dishes on the floor to the bathroom, it wouldn't be the first time she'd find you passed out on the cold ceramic tiles. She flushed the toilet and wiped down the blood and vomit-covered toilet seat before stopping in the doorway to collect herself. Fiddling with her pearl necklace before taking a deep breath, she left the bathroom.

It was 6:10 in the evening when Billie switched off the light in the bathroom and headed to the kitchen, her red pumps echoing through your deadly silent apartment. She stopped in her tracks and seriously considered cleaning for a second, like she used to do for you when you were dating.

She missed you, a lot. She missed seeing the relief on your face when you entered your freshly cleaned kitchen after beating yourself up for nights for not being able to just. Do. IT. She missed the way your eyes sparkled when you looked at her, she missed your bear-hugs and cuddles, she missed everything about you. Billie shook her head, cleaning could wait, she needed to talk to you.

It was 10 past 6 in the evening and you were laying in your bed, which was how Billie found you a few seconds later.

Because everything was just how you had left it. Dirty dishes on the floor. Lights on. Vomit in the toilet. A lifeless body facing the ceiling.

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khaleesiofalicante · 3 years

Note

I really said fuck classes who needs notes anyway (i do I have 5 tests in the next two weeks)

before I post my live blog here, I feel like people really underestimate how bad rumors are and how much they fuck with your mental health. they don't lose sleep over them, they don't think twice. but these things are harmful as fuck. they leave wounds that take so long to recover from because you keep on thinking about these lies who to others are "just words"

I've been there. it's not fun. I wish I had the courage back then to stand up to those rumors which I have now. these things never leave you. others might move on but the healing process is a journey that is long and hard. I wish more people understood just what effect their words can have.

Yeah, he knew a thing or two about family members going overboard with glitter.

IT'S RAFAEL CENTRIC GHSYGUJDUYDFUIKFDUIDFIUDF

TAVVY

DCSUIHDCSUIDUYUDICUIVSDUIHFVSUILFBUHKIFSV

I feel like I keyboard smash A LOT

“You will never drink even if you are not riding the bike,” Dad had pointed out – all Consul Voice and threatening glares. “The legal age for drinking in New York is 21.”

“But it’s 15 in Idris!”

“Well unfortunately for you, we are in Exile,” dad had grinned.

DAD ALEC UHIKSFDUIHKSGUIKSDVUIHKDVUHIKSVD

Max had a habit of ‘borrowing’ things and selling them on eBay. In his brother’s defense, Bapak had so many clothes that he never noticed when things disappeared. But Rafael did since he had a habit of wearing his father’s clothes.

The warlock – not the shadowhunter.

He wouldn’t be caught dead in one of those sweaters.

Now that Rafael was 18, he was almost as tall as his father.

The shadowhunter – not the warlock.

I AM SCREAMING

I love how he's clarifying which one he's talking about

“Do you know I used to have a crush on Lily Chen?” Tavvy blushed. “But then I found out she made out with Helen once and it kinda got weird.”

Ah yes. I remember. Does Rafael know that Alec also walked in on them?

ARCHITECT TAVVY

SDHDVUHDFSV,YDSFVUYVSFFUSVFUVFS

SHADOWUNTERS ATTENDING MUNDANE COLLEGES

“Dude, college kids don’t give a shit,” Tavvy laughed. “You could walk into a lecture covered in runes, holding a seraph blade and they wouldn’t give you a second look.”

“Cause they are chill?”

“Yes. But mostly cause they are dead inside,” Tavvy chuckled.

Surprisingly that's exactly what my grade 6 prefect told me (DAMN WHY AM I ALWAYS REMEMBERING GRADE 6 IT'S BEEN YEARS. that was a horrible year *shudders*)

ANJALI IS A CENTURION

LMAO THIS IS WHAT RAFAEL MEANT WHEN HE SAID HE WOULDNT WANT TO GO TO THE SCHOLOMANCE FOR PERSONAL REASONS

I still ship them.

“The meeting is going to go perfe-What is SHE doing here?”

Well, that was a quick change-

Unlike Aunt Maia, Lily did not like to be called Aunt Lily. So, Rafael respected her wishes. Max of course continued to call her Aunt Lily and sometimes Abeula Lily since his brother had a pathological condition of pissing people off.

THAT'S SO MAX OMG JHSXUHSCUHISDHUHUKIDVS

great now I miss Raphael

I HAVE A CLASS IN 7 MINUTES STOP MAKING ME CRY

that is so thoughtful of him though...

tears.

“There are no photos of Raphael,” Lily sighed.

“Because he is a vampire?” Tavvy asked sympathetically.

“Because he is Raphael,” she grinned. “Vampires can most certainly take photos. You should follow me on Instagram. My handle is simp_for_carstairs.”

Of course, it is. No one is surprised.

Tavvy picked one up, took a large bite and it threw it back immediately. “Holy shit, that’s spicy!”

“White,” Lily and Anjali snorted at the same time.

white people and their bland foods smh

“She is not wrong,” Lily nodded seriously. “I’m a Jem Carstairs fan first and a vampire second.”

As she should be

UHDSUHDFSUHFDH ANJALI AND RAFAEL COMPETING ABOUT WHO'S LILY'S FAVORITE

He observed Anjali’s long dark hair spilled over her shoulders as her eyes stayed on Lily – sharp, protective and beautiful.

"Beautiful"

I AM NOT LETTING THIS GO

I'm THE DAMN CAPTAIN OF THIS SHIP

FUCKING RUMORS

I'm GONNA KILL SOMEONE

“Shadowhunters are awful gossips,” Anjali said. “Let’s not waste our time with this nonsense.”

There was something in her voice. Something he couldn’t put his finger on.

No, wait I want to know what was in her voice.

But no. It couldn’t be. They weren’t dating.

YET

Rafael was sure there was something more than friendship between them. But David was polite to a fault and Max was an oblivious little shit. So, obviously nothing had happened yet.

OH MY GOD THESE TWO

But this was different. He would tolerate rumours about himself. But he would not tolerate rumours about his family.

I and Rafael will beat up the people who spread these rumors together :D

“She once told me she likes sipping tea more than drinking blood.

I-

same.

NOT THAT I DRINK BLOOD-

RAFAEL LMAO NO

"I hate her she's so annoying"

continues to daydream about her and how tall she'd be without those boots, lies to tavvy about her dating someone

Why did he do that? What was the purpose? Did he not want other people to date just because he wasn’t dating anyone?

And he calls Max oblivious.

oh class started

shit

IDC IDC I'LL STILL BE READING

LEXI AND SELENA ARE AT THE ACADEMY

JACE HYPER FIXATING ON THINGS BECAUSE HE'S BORED IS SUCH A MOOD

“David and I added rosemary to this one,” Uncle Jace wiped his hands on his apron. “It has definitely improved the taste, hasn’t it?”

“Save me,” David mouthed from behind the man.

LMAO POOR DAVID

“Empty nest syndrome,” Rafael chuckled. “I’m glad neither Max nor I had to leave home. My fathers are much worse.”

He remembered his first sleepover at the institute. His parents had waited for “an excruciating hour” before crashing the institute and joining the sleepover themselves.

yup, that's them.

“David,” Rafael grinned. “Are you afraid of my father?”

“What? No! He is the just a regular person…who can throw me in the silent city any time he wants,” David rambled and then shook his head. “Where is Max?”

He tried to sound nonchalant. But Rafael noted the way the other boy’s eyes fluttered every time he said Max’s name.

Just the way a crooked smile appeared on his brother’s lips every time someone said David’s name.

Idiots

ok, there is so much to unpack here.

DAVID HAS A VALID REASON OK??

These two are such IDIOTS HUSDUHISCUIDSVCUIHVSDUHI

“Max said Bapak is biased, and that he needs an unbiased tutor. Uncle Ragnor volunteered,” Rafael chuckled. “God bless the poor man.”

“Max isn’t that bad,” David replied.

“Looks like you’re biased too, David,” Rafael winked and picked up a spare bow from the training room.

of course, he is.

G-FORCE KJHSDCUISDYUKDFSUYKDSVYUSFD

oh shit

WHO DID WHAT THIS TIME

what's the rumor and who do I need to kill

He didn’t know her well. But she knew a lot about him. Just as she knew a lot about the twins. She was one of those people who was oddly invested in his life just because Rafael happened to the Consul’s son.

what is her problem?

what the fuck

I need a minute

I need a minute to digest that

I'm so glad I closed my camera in class

what the actual fuck did she just say

tell me I'm hallucinating

times like these I wish I was Jared 19

no, because I'm actually speechless right now

Paige and Irene need therapy

OH SHE WENT THERE

“Paige, that’s enough!” the Dean snapped at her. “How dare you talk to him that way? You talk about warlock corruption but where all of you when Valentine exploited Jace and Clary? Where was this moral obligation when Valentine lied to his children and played with their feelings as if they were nothing but toys to be controlled and manipulated? I’m sick of shadowhunters victim blaming children instead of holding people like Valentine accountable.”

THANK YOU

SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK SIMON

I feel like we all focus so much on the "incest" and hate on clace we forget that this part of the story was literally an abuser seeing that the victim was recovering and took the only thing which made him happy from him

I can't believe this

“Children have been suffering for a long time now, Paige,” Uncle Jace said now, his fists balled at his sides. “Where were you when Alec proposed the child protection bill? We didn’t see any of you supporting it.”

“We had other priorities,” the older woman replied. “People were dying! It was not the right time for a new law. We could have always signed that bill later. There was no rush!”

OTHER PRIORITIES MY ASS BITCH FUCK YOU

hey just realizing Rafael is the token straight

I'M SORRY IM TRYING TO DISTRACT ME

“The Cohort who made children kill themselves to prove a point?” Uncle Simon asked dryly. “That Cohort?”

I am so close to either crying or killing someone or both.

This was Max’s spot since it had the best Wi-Fi coverage.

yeah trust me I spend all the time in the guest room because it has the best wifi coverage or the study.

MAX IS SMOKING TOO

YOU FUCKING IDIOTS

oh wait

oh they might be alec's

yeah

For the next thirty minutes, Max paced around the room, threatening to portal all the shadowhunters to hell.

Then he went on about a plan to attack the cohort and portal them all to hell too.

He kept talking about portalling people to hell.

MAX YES LET'S DO IT!!!!

But here is the thing about people, they don’t get to you. You get to them.

They simply say something and leave. They probably don’t even mean the things they say or lose sleep over it. But it wasn’t the same for you. You obsess over it. You stay awake at night and let it consume your dreams.

YES! To others, it's just words. meaningless. to you, the effect can be so so deep. it's not easy to always brush them off.

NO MAGNUS

THAT'S IT

MAX AND I ARE PORTALLING PEOPLE TO HELL

WE'RE DOING IT

why do we hurt others?

my teacher: ill take a test on this chapter. all 20 units

me: softly crying because people are little shits and they hurt others.

“Fuck everyone else,” dad hissed. “They’ve hurt our family enough.”

EXACTLY. LEAVE THEM ALONE.

“I am simply being honest with you,” Dad interrupted. “I could never be okay when you are away from me. But I will manage. Max is going to raise hell though. So, that’s going to be fun.”

AS HE SHOULD

Neither Rafael nor Max would never admit it out loud, but on the day of that sleepover, on the day their parents had crashed the institute bcause they had missed the kids too much…Rafael and Max had been only a moment away from calling their parents to come pick them up.

He's right though.

it'll take time. lots of it maybe.

BUT THE ACTUAL AUDACITY.

It fucked with his mind so much.

Rafael...ALRIGHT WHERE ARE MY FLAMETHROWERS

“DAD! BAPA! WAKE UP! RAFE IS TRYING TO RUN AWAY!”

MAX REMINDS ME SO MUCH OF MY LITTLE BROTHER

He had forgotten about the bloody paperwork. Shadowhunters on their travel year had to notify the Clave and get their paperwork in order.

Well, it shouldn’t be a problem since the Clave was standing across the hall.

EXACTLY

Because it was killing him. It was killing him not to be lying on the couch, his head resting on his Bapak’s lap just like every other Saturday morning.

It was killing him not to touch, not to love, not to care.

GET MY FLAMETHROWERS AND CANNIBAL GOLDFISHES WE HAVE SOME WORK TO DO

(goddamn every class I have taken so far the teacher has told us there is a test coming up it's 9 am in the morning.)

His brother growled at that like the little feral animal that he was.

that's adorable actually.

“Fine,” Max rolled his eyes. “Does this mean I can also travel? There is a Twenty One Pilots concert in Sydney and-”

“Nice try,” Dad said. “But no. You are staying here.”

“Excuse me, but what about my healing?” Max demanded. “I’ve been traumatised by this thing.”

“You can go to therapy,” Rafael winked at this brother.

Therapy is boring but useful so-

He needed to survive this. So, he decided to go back to the place he had learned how to survive in the first place.

He needed to go back home.

UGLY CRYING WHILE TAYLOR SWIFT PLAYS IN THE BACKGROUND AND MY HISTORY CLASS IN 2 MINUTES

I'm so proud of him for this...

I still say we kill these people.

JOAQUIN AND JULIETTE

UHISDCUIHFSDUGUIDFVDSDVFJHGDFVHUKDVHUKVF

Camilla Alvarez.

well well.

OH THEY KISSED

“Right,” Rafael had said. “Gap year. Besides, I do talk them. My brother threatened to paint my room in hot pink if I don’t text him every day.”

hands max a pint of paint HAVE AT IT

Max: Also – New Rumour. Dalliance between Lily and Tavvy.

Rafe: OMFG WHAT

Max: They are running with it and freaking old n*philim out.

AS THEY SHOULD UFUHIFUIHFUIHKFU

THE CENSORED N*PHILIM I'M SCREAMING

“He is hot.”

He laughed out loud. “Yeah. I hear that a lot.”

“Your dad looks kinda scary,” she pointed out.

Rafael laughed again. “Yeah. I kinda hear that a lot too.”

I'm liking this ship...

I'M STILL LOYAL TO THE RAFAEL AND ANJALI SHIP

but I'm happy for him. I'm glad he's getting the space he needs

Dad: Jst found legal age fr drnkng in Buenos Aires is 18.

Rafe: ????

Dad: I hv friends thr.

Rafe: ???

Dad: Thy r watchn u.

Rafe: Creepy but okay.

HJSDCGUIHJGSDCYUICVXUHVUHKDV

THE BOY'S DRINKING Y'ALL

Do it

MILA IS GOING TO NY!!

I like her. she's nice.

He was leaving soon. He didn’t see the point in lying to her. “I ran away from home. Kind of.”

“Why?”

“I hurt someone I love,” Rafael confessed. “The person I love most in the world.”

honey, it wasn't your fault... hugs

Shit. Why wasn’t Bapak going to the accords signing? He had been there for every single one since the very first time.

no no no no is something wrong?? I'm worried.

“You look taller,” Rafael told his brother who hadn’t grown an inch.

LMAO

Max and I are vertically challenged.

“Rafe, go to talk to him. Or I will tell everyone you’ve been smoking in the balcony!”

So, he was going to pin this on him, huh? This little shit.

well-

“You’ve progressed from freaking to fucking,” he pointed out.

“That’s not the fucking point, Rafael!” Max said in exasperation.

“You did it again,” Rafe pinched Max’s cheek. “My little brother is all grown up now. Linguistically I mean.”

“Dick."

I CAN'T WITH THESE TWO

When he had gone back to Buenos Aires, the place was completely different - even the shadow market.

There were no abandoned children in the streets. There were no racist and ignorant leaders exploiting innocent downworlders.

There was only growth.

His father had done that. Alec Lightwood had helped Joaquin and his people create a new world in Buenos Aires.

This shows how much people can flourish under good leadership if they really try.

YOU KNOW I'M SUPPOSED TO BE TAKING THESE NOTES DOWN, NOT CRYING OVER THIS.

“I will protect our family. I will protect our friends. I will protect those who ask for my protection. But I will not tolerate their hate. I will not turn my head and pretend it doesn’t hurt. Because it does hurt and that’s not okay.”

Rafael smiled at that. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s not okay.”

“The accords is important. But so am I. There is no point in signing a treaty that is meant to value equality if I have to sign it while being surrounded by those who refuse to respect me or my identity. I simply cannot do it, Rafael. I hope you understand.”

I'm sobbing like YES YOU DONT OWE THEM SHIT. THESE UNGRATEFUL BITCHES.

“It’s taken me a while to realize this. But I don’t owe the nephilim anything,” Bapak said firmly. “It’s about time they realize that too.”

YES EXACTLY

“I’ve known shadowhunters for a long time, Rafael. Good ones. Bad ones. All kinds of them – and shadowhunters have always defined themselves by their love. Not by your weapons. Not by your runes. Not by your last names. Not by your laws. Shadowhunters have always defined themselves by love. So, don’t ever let them take that away from you.”

I want this on a T-shirt. These damn shadowhunters and their love.

“Like the Accords Hall kiss?” Rafael grinned.

“It’s the stupidest thing your father had ever done – which is really saying something,” his father laughed. “But it’s also the bravest thing I’ve ever seen him do. And that’s how I knew.”

affectionate sigh that's alec.

“Good. Max is sitting in the porch and singing All by Myself,” Tessa chuckled and closed the door. “Just thought you should know!!”

Rafael giggled at that. “He must have given you hell.”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Bapak shrugged, and Rafael raised an eyebrow. “Fine. I might have promised to buy him a car when he turns 18.”

“You’re hoping he would stop aging by then, aren’t you?” Rafael chuckled.

Max is so dramatic I aspire to be like him.

Blue banners when the lost return, the shadowhunter rhythm said.

Rafael had returned home – and he was no longer lost.

I'm ok I say as I cry during my history class

I'm so proud of him.

“Well, that needs to be rectified immediately,” Dad said in the Consul Voice and literally yelled. “I am about to kiss my son – on both cheeks! You better gossip about this too!”

“Oh my god, stop!” Rafael giggled and tried to escape.

“YAS!” he heard Uncle Jace yelled from somewhere. “GIVE US A FOREHEAD KISS TOO!”

THEY ARE SO DRAMATIC I LOVE THESE IDIOTS SO MUCH.

THEM ADDING TO THE ACCORDS AS THEY SHOULD OMG

“The hell is hate speech?” someone asked.

Do you not have a dictionary you uncultured swine

“There is a very clear difference between free speech and hate speech,” Cristina Rosales pointed out. “The fact that you don’t seem to know that is all the more reason for us to include this provision.”

YES CRISTINA

“By the angel,” an old man gasped. “There is no need to be so emotional. The younger generation can be such snowflakes.”

What if I just strangles him

“Discriminatory language?” a woman demanded. “What does that even mean?”

“Calling vampires bloodsuckers,” Lily Chen answered.

“Calling warlocks demon spawns,” Ragnor Fell pointed out.

“Calling werewolves fleabags,” Maia Roberts declared.

“Calling faeries half-breeds,” Kieran Kingson all but yelled.

The fact that they have had to deal with this shit for YEARS. (also why Kingson? isn't Kieran the king?)

THE QUEEN HERSELF IS HERE Y'ALL

“Which one of you shitheads said hate speech is harmless?” Anjali demanded, her voice booming over everyone and everything else.

YES ANJALI

Anjali had a grin of her own. “While that might true, Paige, there is most certainly a law on child protection. You didn’t just hurt Magnus Bane. You also hurt his son. Section 7 of the Child Protection Bill states that any person who physically or emotionally injures a child through ill-treatment, neglect, abandonment or abuse is guilty of breaking the covenant.”

“Damn straight!” someone yelled from the crowd – it sounded suspiciously like Kit.

CALL THESE BITCHES OUT YES

“Rafael is not a child!” someone yelled again. A lot of them this time. “It’s still not illegal. The law doesn’t say so!”

“By the angel, for someone who is obsessed with the law you people seem to know nothing about it,” Anjali said in exasperation. “The child protection law defines a child as a person under 18 years OR younger. The incident happened when he was still 18. It’s illegal.”

YES ANJALI FUCK THESE PEOPLE

“I’m the Inquisitor’s daughter,” she said. “Next time, think twice before you quote the law at me.”

SHOW THEM, QUEEN

How did she know his birthday????

ahem

“So, if you do hurt him emotionally, you can still be implicated. You will face charges and you can possibly be stripped of your runes,” Anjali pointed out seriously. “Now I ask you again. Does anyone else have to say anything about him?”

There was absolute silence then.

“Didn’t fucking think so,” Anjali spat. “I literally had to mention the stripping of your marks for you to respect another person’s basic rights. If you give half the value you place on your precious runes to other people, we wouldn’t be in exile right now.”

The Cohort looked terrified – of Anjali or their future in the Clave, Rafael didn’t know.

“People are dying,” Anjali said, her voice heavy now. “Our people are fucking dying, and you seem to be more bothered with who is sleeping with whom. Shame on you. Shame on all of you!”

She turned to the Council. The Inquisitor looked like he was going to cry from pride. Rafael’s dad looked half terrified but mostly impressed. Lily was blowing kisses at Anjali. The other downworld leaders looked quite pleased.

Shadowhunters are so fucking bigoted and narrow-minded. I'm seething right now.

also, alec looking scared-

“THAT’S THE BEST SHIT I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE!” Emma Carstairs yelled.

“Goddamn, I wish Magnus was here to see this,” Uncle Jace grinned. “That was satisfying as hell.”

“No worries, I recorded the whole thing!” Kit put up his hand.

YES YES AND YES

“Fuck the Cohort,” Rafael giggled.

“Actually, I would prefer you use the word screw,” his father pointed out. “Screw the Cohort!”

“Oh my god, Dad!” Rafael rolled his eyes. “I am allowed to swear once in a while.”

“No, you are not,” Dad said firmly – this man was so not ready to meet Max’s new persona. “As your friend pointed out, you are still a child.”

Alec seeing Max curse left and right: 👁️👄👁️

"She hates me!"

“Rafael, she stood up for you in front of the entire Clave. She fought the Cohort. It was incredibly brave. I wish she had spoken to me before without causing all the chaos. So, it was a little stupid of course. But still brave.”

Stupid but brave.

YESYESYESYES IT'S HAPPENING!!!

ANJALI WHO HURT YOU

WHO DARED TO

Names. Give me names NOW

Jaime no...please no not Jaime.

please please, please

ok, I searched it up. And he can get treatment. He can live. It doesn't have to be serious. please, Jaime...

“If you ever tell anyone you saw me crying, I will drag you to Idris and drown you in Lake Lyn.”

This is such an Anjali thing to say.

OOO MILLA (Mila?) MESSAGED!!! Is there gonna be some sort of love triangle here??

me who despises love triangles (aside from TID of course): ...

BUT SINCE IT'S YOU I'M SURE IT'LL BE AMAZING. I'm still nervous about this though...

UHCUHDVUKDVHUKVHUVHM I LOVED THIS CHAPTER SO SO SO SO MUCH IT WAS A LITERAL ROLLERCOASTER AND ANJALI QUEEN I LOVE

see ya on Friday!!

OKAY I AM LOVING THIS ENERGY BUT PLEASE FOCUS ON YOUR CLASSES FJKSDFHJKSJFHKD I PROMISE THE STORY IS GOING TO BE HERE WHEN YOU GET BACK LOL.

But I am so glad you like it. Amidst all your screaming and chaos, I always find very perceptive and profound observations. It's fantastic! I love it so much!

Thank you for enjoying LBAF - and good luck with your tests!!!

#lbaf

16 notes · View notes

bokutoisbestowl · 4 years

Text

Fem!S/O; Meetings, Feelings and Futures: Kenma, Aone and Kyoutani

Thank you so much @kara-grayson04 for requesting!! 💞💞 I hope you enjoy it and that its good enough!!

Also thank you for requesting for Aone that man makes me S O F T 🥺🥺🥺

So I’m going to be introducing a master taglist, but it'll be limited to about 40-50 people, so please don’t hesitate to ask!! SMAU’s will have their own separate, unlimited taglist (unless Tumblr has some limitation I don’t know about) that you'd have to ask to be added to separately.

The headcanons may be a bit shorter than usual just because of it being multiple characters but I hope you guess still enjoy it! Feedback is always welcome!

As always, requests are: O P E N

Kenma

You two met during high school, through Kuroo of course. see, rooster boy thought that having another game obsessed friend would make Kenma come out of his shell a little bit

little did he know that it wouldn’t change a thing apart from the fact that he now had two nerds to look after

at first, Kenma didn't really think much of it, you were just another person who befriended Kuroo and would most likely see around quite a lot.

when he saw you, he would be polite and node or mumble his greetings but that was about it at first. You were similar in a way and honestly Kuroo almost regretted it.

almost

Kenma didn't know when it happened, all he knew was that one day he just saw you and blushed like a mad man after realising just how beautiful you were. He didn’t know why you, a simple acquaintance (at least) suddenly became the only thought in his mind

he loved how patient you were with him, even when he was being bluntly analytical of everything, you would simply smile whereas someone else would have complained or just left

he remembers speaking to you about his distaste for hot and cold weather, saying there was not in between. one was too hot, the other too cold and you just nodded along

“That's why I prefer spring and autumn, they're the transitioning seasons so the weather can be more balanced.”

Kenma is just shook that you didn’t point out the obvious that well, one is summer and the other is winter.

you two just starting talking a lot more and Kenma starting falling deeper and deeper and so you did you

although you managed to keep it hidden a bit better but not by much

you two would always look over each others shoulders when playing games together, trying to help each other out and occasionally will discuss games seriously; their design, animation, mechanics basically a range of things

you two became friends quickly after actually talking to each other and his feelings only really became clear when you were absent from school one day

he started texting you straight away, hearing from Kuroo that you were ill and home because your parents still had to work. Surprisingly, he’d managed to convince Kuroo to let him check up on you after practice since your parents worked late

both were shocked seeing you covered in blankets with a red nose, teared up eyes (from all the sneezing) and an exhausted aura opening the door, Kuroo quickly getting Kenma to take you to your room whilst he looked for food to give you

Kenma made sure you were covered with a blanket, grabbing a cold towel to place on your forehead. But rather than sit in silence, he because quietly talking about the newest game, smiling when you became discussing it as well

honestly this boy was falling in deep

collabs are a must when you two create your youtube channels in University, whether it was gaming, challenges or vlogs, around half of yours and his videos always include the other person

your fans are starting to ship you to together, Kuroo being their leader

little did they know you two had been dating since your third year, Kenma having awkwardly gotten his sims character to ask your sims character out on a date and then asking

“So... should we go out for real or?”

you agreed instantly of course

Uni had gone passed easily and your relationship remained strong throughout the years, going on dates every Thursday (both in real life and on any game you could manage)

when you weren't going out on dates, you two were lounging in your shared room or sitting in the living room of the house playing games or watching movies

Life got better after he proposed

he did it after graduation in the celebratory dinner, with help from Kuroo and some of you University friends

you could tell he was slightly embarrassed but luckily it was a private dinner in your residence so he wasn't that bothered. Of course he wanted it to be private but he also lowkey wants to show your relationship off like

“Look at this beautiful woman I am asking to marry me. Like if she says yes i’ll be shook.”

and he was.

Your daughter came along soon after the wedding which was much more simple than anyone expected. You two got married in the back garden of your childhood friends in front of close family and friends.

Pregancy was difficult, but it did give you time to actually play some games rather than having to work all the time plus your YouTube Channel became a family channel

Kenma was forever supportive, reading up on what to expect and how he can help. He never really asserted himself as the type of partner to tell you not to do something, he knew you understood your limitations and so left you to it

but he was always by your side, no matter what

And when Kanna was born, you both fell in love all over again. She was the perfect mixture of you both, with Kenma’s shy, introvert personality and your socialable, patient personality

honestly Kenma was glad of it, knowing that being a major introvert can sometimes be harmful, but he knew his daughter would be fine.

if not then BET he will do everything he can to make sure any problem gets solved quickly

his favourite thing though?

Coming home from work to find his two girls asleep on the sofa

Kanna cuddled up ontop of her mother and you holding your daughter securely in your arms, the two of you breathing softly

calm and serene

it was that he though of when he came up to you one night, wrapping his arm around your waist gently and kissing your shoulder

“...Lets have another.”

Aone

You were on the train when he first saw you properly. Of course he’d seen you around school but didn't really think much of it since his school mates never really spoke to him anyway

something about him being too intimidating to approach (rude)

BUT on the day when the two of you met, the train was way too crowded and you were honestly suffering. getting crushed between bodies or walls daily was getting exhausting and you couldn;t take much more

thankfully you spotted an empty seat and Aone. It wasn;t that you were hesitant because of him, no, you just didn’t want to disturb him if it happened to be that he liked to be alone. but it wouldn;t hurt to ask, right?

so carefully you walked across the train and smiled at him politely, nodding towards the seat next to him

“hello Aone, would you mind if I sat next to you?”

HOLY SHIT HE WAS SOFT IMMEDIATELY

this baby nodded and stiffened as you sat down, he couldn’t believe you’d actually done it and that you seemed so calm and relaxed. did he not scare you??

the two of you sat in silence but that was fine with Aone because someone was sitting next to him

both of you were surprised when you got off at the same stop, you smiling shyly up at him as he let you off first. you were surprised once again to find him walking the same way as you

you walked next to him silently, enjoying his company until it was time to head your separately ways

“Well, thank you for letting me side beside you Aone, I really appreciate it... do you... think I could sit next to you again.. tomorrow?”

he quickly nodded, blush rising from his next to the tips of his ears

you two soon fell into a pattern, whenever you would see each other you would smile and wave, him returning the kind gesture - even at school time which made a lot of people curious and weary

eventually you began waiting for him after practice, quietly waiting outside the gym and smiling when he would come out. he would always nod, giving you a look that you recognised as him saying “please wait a few more minutes” as he went up to get changed

will forever be surprised to see you still standing outside waiting for him

it would always be the same, quiet routine with Aone allowing you on the train first so you could sit first or get the last seat and he would simply stand in front of you, watching over you like a guardian of some sort

on occasions where the train was fully packed, he would gently guide you to a rail - oddly thankful for his intimidating nature since it would lead to people making room for you

once it starts to get darker, Aone refuses to let you walk home alone and goes out of his way just to make sure you get home safely.

you were grateful for it though, simply because of the company

your parents met him once and they loved him. it was like they could also see his kind nature, smiling at him and always thanking him for getting their daughter home safely

he would always nod and bow politely

honestly he adores you because goddamn it finally someone isn't scared of him

goes out of his way to ensure your safety, happiness and comfort. listens to your every word. sometimes he’ll respond to you and sometimes he speaks with his eyes but either way he (and you) are content in each others presence

your relationship moved quickly, dating after only a few months of properly knowing each other but neither of you would have it either way

you supported him in his volleyball career as much as you could, coming to his games or cheering him on when you couldn't make it. If playing is what he wanted to do alongside work then you were happy as long as he was

will bring you flowers and replaces those flowers once they die

all he asks is for kisses

despite the quick beginning, it took four years for you to get married and another two for you to have your children.

the wedding was beautiful, all your friends and family there, even his old high school friends (including the third years from back in his second year)

everyone was happy that this guy finally found love

the pregnancy was unplanned, and you were both shocked.

you’d missed your period and decided to take a test, Aone came home to you on the sofa, holding some baby shoes that you had gotten during the day to surprise him with

he was s h o o k

imagine both your surprise when you found out you were having twins

when you went into labour, Aone was terrified that his children would be scared of him, but his thoughts were quickly shoved aside when he heard his son cry out. and then his daughter

his heart was beating so fast, man was thankful they were in a hospital.

your son, Reo, calmed in your arms leaving your daughter, Aoi, to her father.

she cooed instantly and was labelled daddy’s girl

straight away

Reo was a lot like Aone in that he was oddly silent, even for a baby, you guessed he must have picked up on it and just went with it

Aoi was more like you, the talker of the pair and smiles all around

it was one day when he was watching the three of you play that he chuckled to himself, smiling happily.

Once upon a time his concern was that no one would sit next to him on the train

now it was that one day his daughter would get a boyfriend

god bless that boy

“Aoi, boys who are friends are okay. Boyfriends are banned.”

“Daddy... what’s a boyfriend?”

Kyoutani

Okay so ya’ll met under bad circumstances. and by that I mean he shoved passed you and knocked you on your ass, not even sparing a glance to you as you walked passed.

a bunch of the male students were immediately shouting at him for being rude to a girl, female students coming to help you up whilst the culprit just sulked off somewhere

you were a first year, friends to Kindaichi and Kunimi and also lowkey manager of the team

you had heard that Iwaizumi was having to take up some of the role and felt bad, since you were there watching your boys anyway you thought might as well so you spoke to him and Oikawa about applying for the position

You were SHOCKED to find him there, like how did a guy that unsociable get into a club??

you soon found out about the teams troubles with him and realised that it’s just his personality

but he was good at the game, despite stealing a few of Kindaichi’s sets and just being plain rude. But you loved how he was with Oikawa, laughing quietly to yourself as the older boy pouted when he was being ignored

Kyoutani thought nothing of you at first, you were just some girl he’d bumped into but then he saw you in club and was annoyed

did you follow him here to scold him cause it wouldn’t work

but then he saw how kind and attentive you actually were and boy was soon blushing (but only slightly)

it pissed him off whenever you went to Iwaizumi or Oikawa because obviously he saw Iwaizumi as the big dog and Oikawa was.... Oikawa so gross

was also surprised when you came over to give him a towel, because he thought he’d scared you off with his rudeness

blinks before nodding and wiping he face, feeling your presence move before swiftly catching your wrist

“Sorry... ‘bout before”

you just smiled and nodded at him, when he let you go (he was receiving looks off of Iwaizumi otherwise he could have stayed like that staring into your eyes for the rest of practice) you went back to your friends, laughing at Kindaichi as he demanded for information

Oddly enough he became a lot calmer when you were around because you were call him out for his mistakes

“That wasn’t your set Kyoutani, you need to wait otherwise your spikes won’t be as strong as they usually are and might get blocked easily.”

honestly you didn’t know if your words were actually helping but he seemed to take them in a wait for Oikawa to actually set to him

it didn’t work all the time however, in actual matches he got so into it that he just forgets and acts out

Oikawa and Iwaizumi sometimes look to you to calm him down, again sometimes it works and sometimes all you can do is shrug and say you tried

no one is sure of when you two started hanging out or dating but it just kinda happened

like one day you just kinda went “yeah he’s my boyfriend” and visa versa

he would walk you home on the grounds of Iwaizumi telling him to

you walked home alone because Kindaichi and Kunimi didn't live near you and Iwaizumi just turned to mad dog like “Walk her home. We need to make sure our manager gets home safely.”

everyone thought he’d put up a fight but he just turned, grabbed your hand and starting walking.

will continue to hold your hand and actually intertwine your fingers if he sees other boys walking past you two

kinda like a claim? but a sweet one like

“back off she’s mine”

you were sad when, a year later, he graduated but he always came back to walk you home at the end of day like routine

like I said before, no one was sure when you two started dating they just knew he was soft for you but still growly and glaring

you didn't mind though because he treated you gently

you got pregnant after you left high school and starting working. well, a few years into your job you got pregnant.

totally unplanned and definitely outside of marriage

your mothers were like “excuse me. what”

he proposed a few days later

I say proposed

you two were led in bed and he just turned around and said “you wanna get married or what?”

you legit just nodded all chill like and said “sure why not”

instant grin and kisses because he loves the playfulness

you ended up having a son who was exactly like his father and finally

after all these years

Kyoutani got a taste of his own medicine

“He’s such a fucking little shit.”

“He’s your son smh.”

Itsuki was born with a scowl on his face, Kyoutani was sure of it. he swears to whatever god he can that he saw it with his own eyes

but there are some moments where he remembers just how much he loves his son

but in all seriousness, seeing his son take after him so much fills him with joy and he’s so happy that they have that little mad dog

any future children (daughters) will be well protected

“Mommy... I want a baby brother.”

Kyoutani just sits there grinning

“You heard the rascal.”

●●●●

Master Taglist: Ask to be added whilst you can!!

@reinyrei

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introvertguide · 3 years

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The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948); AFI #38

The next Huston and Bogart collaboration that we reviewed was the infamous tale of greed and betrayal, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948). It was a film that was two decades in the making due to a world war, varying contractual obligations, and poor conditions due to location filming. It is debated that this was Bogart's best performance since it was a step away from the roles that had made him famous, but it did not earn him an Oscar nomination. The film did get four nominations and ended up winning Best Writing and Best Directing for John Huston as well as Best Supporting Actor for Walter Huston, John's dad. This was the only time that a father-son combo won Oscars for a film together. There are a lot of interesting firsts involved with this film, but I want to spoil it first for anyone who hasn't seen it. By the way...

SPOILER WARNING!!! THIS IS AN ANALYSIS, SO I AM GOING TO SPOIL EVERYTHING ABOUT THE MOVIE AND THEN EVERYTHING ABOUT THE PRODUCTION!!! IF YOU WANT TO SEE THE FILM COLD AND GET THE FULL EXPERIENCE, WATCH IT FIRST BEFORE READING ANY FURTHER!!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!

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In 1925, in the Mexican town of Tampico, Fred C. Dobbs (Humphrey Bogart) is wandering around and begging for change. He keeps asking the same man in white (John Huston) for money until the man tells him no more handouts. Dobbs continues to beg and runs into another vagrant named Bob Curtin (Tim Holt). The two seem to have an understanding, but money is tight and they separate to look for job leads. Dobbs finds a man in an alley named Pat McCormick (Barton MacLane) and the latter asks the former if he wants a job. Dobbs agrees and goes to a raft and finds Curtin will also be working on this job. They are working as roughnecks to help construct oil rigs for $8 a day. When the project is completed and they return to Tampico, McCormick skips out without paying the men.

The two vagrants encounter an old man named Howard (Walter Huston) in a flophouse. The loquacious and penniless ex-miner talks to them about gold prospecting and the perils of striking it rich. Dobbs and Curtin run into McCormick at a cantina, and after a bar fight, collect their back wages. When Dobbs hits a small jackpot in the lottery, he, Curtin and Howard have enough money to buy the supplies they need to go prospecting in the interior.

Departing Tampico by train, the three help to repulse a bandit attack led by "Gold Hat" (Alfonso Bedoya). North of Durango, the trio head into the remote Sierra Madre mountains. Howard proves to be the hardiest and most knowledgeable of the three. After several days of arduous travel, Howard spots gold that the others had passed by.

The men toil under harsh conditions and amass a fortune in placer gold. But as the gold piles up, Dobbs becomes increasingly distrustful of the other two. The men agree to divide the gold dust immediately and hide their shares. At one point, Curtin sees a Gila monster crawl under a rock and it turns out that this was where Dobbs had hid his share. Curtin warns Dobbs, but Dobbs just assumes that Curtin is trying to steal another share of the gold. It is apparent that Dobbs is being driven insane by the greed for gold, just as Howard had predicted.

Curtin, while on a resupply trip to Durango, is spotted making purchases by a Texan named Cody (Bruce Bennett). Cody secretly follows Curtain back to the encampment. When he confronts the three men, they lie about what they are doing there, but he is not fooled. He boldly proposes to join their outfit and share in any future takings. Howard, Curtin and Dobbs talk it over and vote to kill him. As they announce their verdict, pistols in hand, Gold Hat and his bandits arrive. They claim to be Federales. After a tense parley, a gunfight ensues, and Cody is killed. A genuine troop of Federales suddenly appears and pursues Gold Hat and his gang. The three prospectors examine Cody's personal effects. A letter from a loving wife reveals that he was trying to provide for his family.

Howard is called away to assist local villagers with a seriously ill little boy. When the boy recovers, the next day, the villagers insist that Howard return with them to be honored. Howard leaves his goods with Dobbs and Curtin and says he will meet them later. Dobbs and Curtin constantly argue, until one night Dobbs shoots Curtin and takes all the gold. However, Curtin is not dead; he manages to crawl away and hide during the night.

Finding Curtin gone, Dobbs flees, but is ambushed at a waterhole by Gold Hat and his men. They first toy with him, then kill him (it is implied that Dobbs is beheaded with a machete). The bandits mistake the bags of gold dust for sand and dump the treasure, taking only the burros and supplies. The gold is scattered by the strong wind. Meanwhile, Curtin is discovered by indios and taken to Howard's village, where he recovers.

Gold Hat's gang tries to sell the stolen burros in town, but a child recognizes the brands on them (and Dobbs' clothes, which the bandits are wearing) and reports them to the authorities. The bandits are captured and summarily executed by the Federales.

Howard and Curtin return to Durango in a dust storm and reclaim their pack animals, only to find the empty bags. At first shaken by the loss, first Howard, then Curtin, grasp the immense irony of their circumstances, and they burst into laughter. Howard decides to return to the village to accept an offer of a permanent home and a position of honor, while Curtin sells their recovered property to return to the United States, where he will seek out Cody's widow. As Curtin leaves, the camera pans down to a cactus as he rides past. Lying next to it is a bag of gold, still full.

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This film was a major change of pace for Bogart, making it very difficult to advertise. An actor who is generally the hero turns out to be a villain that shoots his partner and then is unceremoniously beheaded by a bandit is not what audiences expected or even wanted. Using Bogart's star power and reputation for being a good guy romantic lead to attract audiences and then doing his character dirty like he was done is the 40s version of clickbait. And yet the film was moderately successful with audiences and earned four Academy Award nominations. Where this trick to the audience is apparent is the lack of even a nomination for Bogart despite it being one of his finest acting roles.

I watched the movie a couple of times over the last few days and that included commentary from the guy who wrote the biography of Bogart, a Mr. Eric Lax. It was extremely informative and was actually very different from the IMDB trivia page. I am going to trust the official biographer on this one, so some of the following information that is presented as fact is second hand from the movie commentary.

There were two father-son teams on the set of this particular film. The first is was of course the director, John Huston, and his father who played the part of Howard, Walter Huston. The other was actually the other nice guy, Curtin, who was played by Tim Holt, and the old man who warned the two that Pat McCormick was lying to them, played by Jack Holt. John Huston was actually in the film playing the American in the white suit, which made this film the only one with two father-son duos with speaking roles in a single film.

The Huston family has a couple of other notable film accomplishments. John Huston directed his father to an Academy Award and also directed his daughter, Angelica Huston, to a Best Supporting Actress award in Prizzi's Honor (1985). On both occasions, the elder Huston in the film died very soon after working with their child. Walter died a year after his role in Sierra Madre and John died less then two years after Prizzi's Honor. I felt a little sad about that at first, but then it is nice that a parent can work with their child doing what they do best at the end of their life.

Apparently the filming was very difficult and took its toll on the actors and crew. There was a joke about the old man, Howard, being a tough old goat, and that comes from the local crew outpacing the location scouts when Huston first went down to Mexico to look for places to film. The filming took place during the rainy season so there were many delays. The irony was that there was lots of gusting wind except on the day that they needed it and there was lots of rain and flooding except on the day when Dobbs finds the little collection of water.

A rather silly note (or at least I thought so) was that one of the big pushes to get the film done was that Humphrey Bogart wanted to participate in a boat race. He had his boat, the Santana, that he had been practicing with around Catalina when pre-production was halted due to John Huston joining the military during WW2. Bogart wanted to take part in the Honolulu Yacht Race in which he had participated in the past. Bogart's wife, Lauren Bacall, said that the yacht was the only thing that she ever felt jealous of. The constant complaining by Bogart about the time caused one of the only fights he had with John Huston. The director purportedly grabbed Bogart by the nose and twisted until Bogart shut up. It was not brought up again and Bogart missed his race.

One actor that made a surprising cameo in the film was the little boy that sold Dobbs the winning lottery ticket. The part was played by a very young Robert Blake (freaking Beretta) who was a child film star. He had played the role of Mickey in Our Gang short films for almost a decade by the time he was in Sierra Madre. I was surprised to also find out that Blake had almost 80 acting credits before his small part in this film. By the way, he does not have a Mexican accent. Sadly, I think that Blake is now most famous for being accused of hiring somebody to kill his wife. Not a great legacy.

My family commented on the look of Bogart and how weirdly greasy his hair looked. His hair looked pretty weird throughout the film, as a matter of fact. According to Eric Lax, Bogart was taking hormone shots in an attempt to get Bacall pregnant and had lost a lot of his hair. All of those funny looking haircuts were toupees. The one used when Dobbs got a haircut was most notable, especially since you can since Bogart's actual hair at the back.

A final fun fact was the death of Dobbs being a strangely cut machete strike that was hidden by the backside of a donkey was not the original depiction. There was an actual fake head rolling down to the water that was cut out of the film. Bogart famously kept the head and was very disappointed when the scene was cut out of the film. That would have been pretty gory for the time, but Huston knew it would not get past the sensors and he wanted the film to get distributed. Oh well.

So does the film belong on the AFI 100? Of course. For similar reasons as The Maltese Falcon. This was one of the best works produced by one of the best director/writer and lead actor combos of all time. It is an amazing story that doesn't end how one would expect from a movie of the time. It is classic and innovative at the same time. Would I recommend it? Absolutely. It is a fine film that tells the story of what greed can do to an otherwise good person. It is also very clean to the point that I would recommend it to any age group.

#the treasure of the sierra madre #humphrey bogart #john huston #academy award winning #black and white #introvert #introverts #40s movies

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sandsofoneiros · 3 years

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*I don't own any images above. Found them on pinterest.

Disclaimer: It’s finally here! It’s been kicking my ass for weeks but I finally have it ready for you guys! I know nothing about ships and sailing so please don’t hate me! There's so many references in this chapter and I wonder if you can pick up on them! Let me know if you do and your thoughts! I also finally got to use my moodboard! I also tried something new with ending and beginning that I got from one of my favorite authors. Let me know what you think!

Pairing: Poe Dameron x OFC.

Warning: We have a lot. It gets angsty towards the end. Mentions of an anxiety attack, grief mention, and we do have a character death. Some blood is mention. Emotions are every where for these kiddos. I tried to tag everything just be cautious reading the third months. Cursing

Read chapter two here!

Tagging: @thembohux and @booksmusicteaandanimals

Chapter Three: The Privateer.

Months before. . . . .

To some, he was still a boy. Seventeen did not make one a man, and he knew that as he trekked up the snowy hill. The kingdom is known for its harsh terrain and even more ruthless queen. However, the boy wasn’t intimidated. His hood obscured his identity to those around him, and that’s how it would remain until he was facing her. The boy had an offer for the ice queen. An offer that would blossom in time and would contribute to them both, or that’s what he assumed would happen. The bitter wind cut at his cheeks and nose as he went on. He had been on this journey for what seemed like years, but it had hardly been a week; he was losing count of the days. The only thing that mattered was his offer being accepted. This new powerful alliance could be formed. He could hardly wait, and that gave him the last push to get over that hill. For a moment, he paused at the top, looking over the kingdom that was practically camouflaged by the snow. The rumor was that this kingdom had no proper ruler and was run by the most feared individual that asserted dominance. One that the others thoroughly respected. The neighboring kingdoms had always perceived it as unusual. However, the queen of this land had held it in her clutches longer than anyone. The boy was hoping to extend and expand her reign tonight.

In another kingdom, a prince and his father quarreled more and more each day. The tension becomes too much for each of them. The father had sought to end his son’s dreams of adventure and each day he felt his son slipping further and further away. He would venture into the town and come home later with the patrol guards surrounding him. The boy hung around the harbors and taverns, lingering to see if he could slip away with someone or some crew. However, they were promptly told who the boy was and what would take place if they were to leave with him. This kingdom did everything to look after their beloved prince, despite his attempts to break free. The prince was ready to leave this forsaken place and forget his title. He didn’t wish to spend another summer visiting a princess that he didn’t wish to wed. He didn’t want to be told what to do. He wished to be like his mother and explore. The boy only wanted freedom. Freedom to do what would make him happy and not those around him. His anger had led him to another bar, but this time a crew had taken an interest in him. A mysterious girl not older than him had enticed him to accompany her on the sea, and he had never felt more freedom than when he took her hand.

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First month.

Sixteen years old.

She couldn’t accept what the King declared. It was too shocking to even thoroughly comprehend and prayed that this was some trick that Poe was playing. Kes’s haggard appearance was the only thing that told her it wasn’t. Poe had finally done it. He had sought freedom and had gotten taken instead. Kes continued, telling them he wasn’t certain Poe had gotten captured or left freely. The owner of the bar gave one explanation of the story while the people gave another. Kes had been late for getting there to stop the prince. She could see that weighed on his mind heavily, and she couldn’t fault him. Ro had become lost in her mind until Ignis touched her shoulder.

“Princess?” Kes’s voice was low as he observed her. Standing by to see what would take place. Ro hadn’t even heard the question and instead peered at her father before Ignis. This was their first time escorting her to Yavin. Queen Eirlys wasn’t in good health and declined the visit. Moreso, her spouse declared to her, he would take her place this year. Her mom was ill back in Cianna and had been for the entire year. The summer had been the worst of the year. Ro would watch as the woman would fake a smile and make herself do her duties. Her father did everything he could to lessen all the Queen’s duties, but she would scold him. Her mom had insisted that Ro come to Yavin and be with the prince. She didn’t need to be staying with the sick queen. Now, she stood before the Kes and heard how Poe wasn’t even here. He didn’t know where his son was or when the boy would return. This summer was becoming one that she wanted to forget.

“These are challenging times, your highness. My mother is unwell and Poe is missing. It would seem that we are all being tried.” Her voice wavered as she struggled to speak. The poor young woman could feel more cracks developing in her walls. How long would they hold up? How long could she be strong? Pushing her lips into a thin line, she took a minute to gather herself once more. “The kingdom of Cianna will support you, King Kes. I’m confident we can find Prince Poe. My mother would want us to put the prince first and that’s what we’re going to do. Da, send word to Cianna, and let’s get as many as we can spare. I know a privateer that can benefit us. We might need to get our hands dirty, gentlemen.”

Her head was high as she communicated to all of them. None of them expected her to develop a strategy and issue orders. They could see she would not let this go, it was personal for her. For a minute, Jaqen saw nothing but his wife radiating through his oldest daughter. A smile found its way to his face, and he felt pride as he stepped somewhat back, letting Ro have the floor. Ignis followed Jaqen’s lead and let the princess have the floor.

“I will meet with the privateer and get us a ship along with more company. I presume we’ll want to leave as soon as possible. King Kes, I propose packing up.”

Kes couldn’t stop the grin that set across his face. It took him back to the first time he met Aurora. How shy she was. Now she stood before him and took charge of finding his son. Oh, she would make an admirable queen one day. He could see that with no problem.

“I believe you’re right, Princess Aurora. We’re wasting valuable time, gentlemen. Let’s plan to leave by the end of the week.”

“I’ll send for Cianna’s finest.” Her father bowed to Kes.

“Ignis, I need you to accompany me to the city. I need to speak with someone in town.”

Ro didn’t waste any time as she left the throne room, leaving them all in admiration. Her head held high as she left. Her legs brought her to the spot of Poe’s favorite tree. A tree that Kes and Shara had planted when she was alive. Her lip wobbled as she battled back tears. Her knees swayed as she pressed her back to the tree and slid down the trunk. Not caring that it could ruin her dress or possibly scrape her. No, she needed to get her emotions out for the few moments that she had alone. Her shoulders shook as the emotions took over. Why would he leave? Last summer it seemed that he was ready. Evidently, it had been nothing more than a honeyed speech. Her mind advised her he wouldn’t have just left. Her heart told her he loved her, but her gut declared both of them were wrong. Her gut instructed her that when she found him she would never want to see him again.

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Zireael watched as the men loaded up her ship for this job. A job that she wasn’t sure that she wanted in the first place but the reward would be worth it. The reward always made it worth it. Griff stood beside her as they waited on the King of Yavin to join them. Both of them had already decided only one noble could be on this ship. The princess and her guard would only cause more trouble. However, the Ciannaian longboats did make them feel a little more relieved. Numbers would help them given who they had to track down. This prince had gotten wrapped up with the Kijimi Fleet. A fleet that no one dared cross along with their kingdom. How someone could do something so reckless was beyond her but all these princes and princesses were always doing something bothersome. She tapped her boot while her arms crossed over her chest. They were losing time and that was something she hated.

“Calm down, we have plenty of days left to sail.” Chuckling, he ruffled her raven locks and put her hat back down. It wasn’t uncommon for her to lose patience.

“Days? We have three months to find the prince or it was all for nothing.” She spoke as she swatted his hand away from her hair.

“I don’t see why she doesn’t marry the guard. He looked positively love-struck. . .”

“Probably for the same reason why I don’t marry you, Griff. Her heart belongs to another.”

They both shared a look before someone cleared their throat. It was the King of Yavin. He offered them a slight smile and wave before putting his bag down. It was only one bag, and that took Zireael by surprise. She guessed that he would have packed more, but less was always better. The King of Cianna remained beside him as they spoke their goodbyes. He gave her and Griff a knowing look before bowing his head to them.

“Careful on the seas. All of you.”

“Of course, your highness. I’m sure we’ll sing songs and become closer with each passing day.”

Zireael bowed to both the fathers before nodding to the ship. It was time to leave, and she was aching to get out on the sea. The gulls were crying above them, and the sun was high. It was an excellent day. She couldn’t have asked the maker for a more perfect day for them to sail the ocean. Griff had started the climb up the ramp to the deck to speak with everyone about what they would be doing. He was her second in command and no one ever challenged him. They didn’t want to face her wrath.

Kes held his arm out for her to take as they made their climb. “How certain are you that we will find him? There are plenty of uncharted territories out there.” The privateer merely smirked at his question. She wasn’t even certain if they would recover the prince, but he was a dad missing his only son. “I’m positive that we will find him and more, your grace. Don’t you fret.” Once they were on the deck, she brought the king to the commander’s quarters. She wasn’t certain what this job had in store for them, but the least she could do was make sure that Kes was comfortable while he traveled with them. It would be a lengthy three months if the man had to sleep on the bunks down below. There would not be much to do today other than plan out her course.

Her quarters were her sanctuary for the time. Flipping through the pages of her journal, she started studying the statements that she had gathered from the night the prince had fled. She needed a lead. All she knew was that he had got tied up with the Kijimi Fleet, and she wasn’t familiar with their routes. She needed to figure out where they would go next. Rubbing at her temples, she recorded where they could hit and where they had hit. She had to find that pattern. It was there somewhere. They would stop at the next port and ask around there. They would not spend too long searching ports and towns. No, they didn’t have time.

A knock rang through her quarters, and her eyes stared at the door. She didn’t want to let them in. Fixing her hair, she almost didn’t recognize herself as she passed the mirror to open the door. Grinning, she took in the sight of Kes. A charming man. It was no wonder his people loved him and his son.

“You look like you could use some fresh air. There looks to be a party on deck and I don’t think it’s fair that you’re working.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be an excellent captain if I let them have all the fun, would I?”

Kes chuckled with the young woman. She was no older than his son. Yet, she was a privateer that was managing this job and ensured that she would find his son. She had plenty of individuals under her to command and they all respected her. They looked at her for guidance. A leader. However, one looked at her as if it would be the last time. Griff stared at her as if he was seeking to seize her for himself. It made Kes uneasy.

Zireael beamed as she listened to the familiar music and moved behind a few of them. She wasn’t feeling much for dancing. Hoisting herself onto the railing, she searched through the leather pouch that settled at her hip. Plucking out her long pipe, tobacco, and arranging it, she gladly placed it between her lips. Blowing the smoke out her nose made a grin as Griff shook his head at her.

“Does your mother know you do that?” The king asked, while she snickered. Glancing over at him, a playful twinkle in her eyes.

“Who do you think taught me, your grace?”

Their laughter weaved in with the rest of the crew’s. This was the calm before the storm. They wouldn’t always have nights like this where they could rest easy and be cheerful. No, this was a treat, and they all realized that. She let herself sing some songs with them, clapped as they danced, but she hadn’t truly let herself join in completely. It wasn’t until Kes took her hand to join in the dance that she allowed herself. Griff had been the next to spin her around on the deck. The crowd shouted loudly as they watched their captain join in. They all recognized how much this job meant to her and how much she desired the reward. They knew she wouldn’t fail, and they would not let her. She took care of them, and they took care of her. It was as simple as it could get. Zireael was a name just as feared as the Kijimi Fleet. It was recognized but shrouded in mystery. That was the way she intended to keep it. Always keep them guessing, and they might respect her enough to stay out of the way.

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Poe leaned over the rail of the ship, scanning for any sea creatures that might reveal themselves. This was the furthest that he had ever been from Yavin, and he was buzzing with excitement. Sure, the crew was still watchful of him, but that never discouraged his mood. He was constantly ready to prove himself to them. Zorii had vouched for him back in Yavin and he wanted to make sure that he lived up to whatever she had told them. He needed to see more, and it wasn’t long before he hurried up to the crow’s nest. Poe adored being that high up and staring out onto the horizon. The prince would spread his arms out and just enjoy the breeze. It was his favorite spot on the entire ship. Other than beside the fearless young woman who had swept him off his feet. The young woman that wanted adventure just like him. She was a little cold the first few weeks, but she had come around. Now, she was constantly reminding the others how valuable he really was.

“Dameron! What are you looking at up there?” Her voice called as she studied him. Her hand over her eyes to shield it from the sun. He just waved at her to come up with him, which she did with some reluctance. They had been sailing with each for weeks now, and Poe recognized something was flourishing between them. The prince had wanted this with Aurora, but it never unfolded. She had suggested once that she would wait on him, but he knew she might not. He couldn’t blame her. They were children that got forced into something that they didn’t want. He felt she was more than thrilled that he had left. Yet, his mind drifts back to last summer and those spoken feelings.

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Second month.

It was all getting to them. It was hardly the second month of their journey, but they were all suffering the effects. Even Zireael was becoming tired of being on her ship, and she longed to feel solid ground again. Stepping out on the deck and leaning over the rail, she stared at the water below them. It always gave her some sort of relief, even though she was missing the feel of grass between her toes. The breeze swept through her hair as the crew continued working around her. They had been putting extra work in since some storms had blown them off course a few times. She was proud of them and needed to remind them she was. Her thumb rubbed at the silver ring on her thumb as she thought of some reward that she could give them.

“You’re quiet this afternoon, everything alright?” Griff asked. Zireael couldn’t help but note the small braid that had made itself known. Reaching out, she carefully tugged his umber braid.

“I’ve been considering stopping at the next port and letting everyone go enjoy themselves. It seems we’ve all grown tired of the waves below. I could undoubtedly use a hot bath. . .” She grinned before studying her own hair. Fingers working through tangles without even a whimper.

“There’s one not too far from here. A night off the ship might restore our energy for the rest of the journey.”

xxxx

Freshly scrubbed and accompanying her crew, Zireael laughed at their stories that they were sharing with others. The hood of her cloak was up as she rested in the back with her pipe between her lips. Letting the smoke swirl flow from her lips as she listened to her crew enjoy themselves. It was a sight to behold as a man with brown hair sang in the corner. Some of them had requested him to sing a jig instead of the sad song he had opened with. Zireael hummed the words as she lifted her tankard every once in a while. It had been too long since she had gotten to unwind. The king had wanted to enjoy the night sleeping in an actual bed after his own bath. For once they could forget about finding this rebellious prince and the Kijimi Fleet. She could let herself breathe for just a night. Something she hadn’t done since she set foot on that ship. Zireael hadn’t even bothered to ask anyone here if they knew about the prince or the fleet. It was a distant memory and would be until tomorrow morning when they set off again.

xxxxx

Walking into the tavern, Poe wasn’t ready for the boisterous voices that sing off key, but they were lively. The song tells of throwing coins to some hero from what Poe took of it. Zorii had shoved him into a booth in the back and provided the roughness of the shove; she wasn’t overly pleased with him. They hadn’t been getting along very well recently and he couldn’t stop thinking about home. He also couldn’t stop thinking about her. He wondered how much she had changed since he had seen her. How many braids had she gained? He dreamed of his fingers traveling over patterns of the plaits. He imagined undoing her plaits and his fingers combing through those strands. Would he ever see her again? He couldn’t afford to think like that when Zorii was around. She had taken notice of how he changed when he was in deep thought. It led to questions and more confrontation between them. She never appreciated hearing his answers. Exhaling, he searched the tavern as everyone sang heartily with the drinks in their hands. He hadn’t seen a sight like this in so long. He missed moments like this, but Zorii was simply using this to put him in a good mood. This was the first time that he had even left the ship in two weeks. It had been a punishment when he had stopped her from hurting someone who he felt was honest. She wasn’t pleased with him. She still wasn’t, and her actions confirmed it more and more.

His eyes paused on a figure that rested diagonally across from them. They were sitting with their hood up and a long pipe between their lips. Squinting, he could make out some details, but not enough. It wasn’t until one of their crew, or who he guessed was their crew, pulled the hood down. Her long raven hair lay over her shoulder as she smacked at them before pulling the hood back up. The table rocked as Zorii practically slammed their drinks on the table, the liquid spilling over the rim.

“Everything alright?” He asked, but his brown eyes continued watching over her shoulder to the enigmatic young woman. She rested with one leg draped over the edge of the table and the other stretched out, with her foot resting in the chair. Smoke escaping either the corner of her lips or her nostrils. She didn’t look older than him and Zorii.

“It’s fine, Poe. It’s just loud in here.”

She wasn’t mistaken about that, but he embraced the songs and dance of the other company that was here. He speculated on what they were pleased about. Maybe it was just being off the ship like he was. Poe wished to meet them, but that would only annoy Zorii more. Their relationship was constantly tethering on good and just awful. One minute she was applauding him for something and the next scolding him like a child. It was disheartening. When he first met her, he was drawn to her. She had taken him away from Yavin, had shown adventure that he never could have envisioned, but it wasn’t all roses. It was darker than he ever thought. There was another side of the world that his father had sought to protect him from. The thought of his father made him close his eyes. He missed his papa more than he could say. What was he doing right now? How much resentment did his papa have? Would his papa even wish to see him again? It weighed massively on his mind. He asked each day that he would see his papa soon.

Getting a sip of his drink, he watched as the mystery young woman smoked her pipe. He couldn’t figure out why he was so taken by her. Could it be because her crew was cheerful and dancing around their little area? Poe couldn’t say for sure. A sigh escaped Zorii’s lips, and he lifted a brow at her. She must have wanted his attention. Above her top lip, she had gathered a bit of foam from her drink.

“You have something on your lip.”

He looked away once more as she wiped her mouth. He watched as the other got up from her chair to go to the counter and he was already moving, leaving behind a confused Zorii. Nudging his way through the sea of bodies and smacking into a very built man with silvery hair. The man stood silently before Poe murmured an apology and moved around him. However, the young woman was back in her chair and another had scooted in beside her. He had missed his chance. Poe frowned before discovering a vacant seat at the bar and promptly taking it for himself. Maybe the owner would know something about her. He just needed to get the man to talk. Poe did his best to get a better glimpse at the curious young woman, but someone invariably got in the way. A snicker from the barkeep caused his head to snap up.

“It looks like Zireael has captured your eye.”

“Is that her name? Zireael? Where’s she from?”

“Not much is known about her and her crew. They are highly respected wherever they travel. They don’t create trouble with others and frequently are the ones stopping the trouble.” The man responded while he wiped down the counter. He had a name now. Zireael. It varied from anything he had heard before, but it suited her.

“She doesn’t look like much.” Zorii sneered as she took a seat on the vacant stool beside Poe. He had speculated how long it would take for her to follow him, and she had set a record for five minutes. Zorii would never let him out of her sight for too long, anyway. Even during their job earlier, Zorii wouldn’t let him do anything other than hold the goods. Even that was something that she didn’t want him doing.

“Looks can be deceiving.” He retorted without glancing at Zorii. Zorii had deceived him. She wasn’t what he expected when they first met, and neither was the world beyond Yavin. She had been beautiful to him then, inside and out. However, she had a very unique nature. Zorii could be ruthless with upholding the Kijimi kingdom. This was her way of life, and Poe wasn’t certain if he even fit in with it. He was repeatedly working to persuade her that there had to be another alternative in situations that didn’t call for such vicious measures. He felt he was getting through to her. Later the next day she would go back to the old Zorii. He didn’t wish to give up hope on her. He genuinely thought that maybe he could show her a fresh perspective than what she had known.

“I wouldn’t mess with Zireael and her crew.” A gruff voice uttered, and Poe looked at the owner. The silver-haired man in black leather who looked like he could easily defeat anyone in this bar. The man grunted before he made his way back to a table where two others sat. A dark-haired woman and the young man who had been singing earlier. For such a broad man to claim that made Poe curious to learn more about this Zireael. However, he feared Zorii would let him get any closer.

“I’m sure she wouldn’t dare mess with the Kijimi Fleet!” Zorii made certain that her tone rose above everything. It didn’t matter that they still were trying to keep Poe’s identity hidden. That was always the major priority when they came into any town. It didn’t matter how far away they were from Yavin. There was always a risk. None of them were positive if they were being followed still or not. It wasn’t something that they were eager to risk.

His heart was pounding as he watched Zorii, then over to Zireael. Silence settled over the tavern, and no one dared to speak. Zireael’s crew had gathered around their leader and stood by to see what this stranger would do. They were outnumbered, and Poe wasn’t sure how unforgiving Zireael was. He had gotten no claims about that. Even the trio in the very back sat watching to see what would transpire. It became clear to Poe at that moment that everyone here respected this young woman. They had no support or allies here.

“Drop it, Zorii Wynn.” Poe grabbed her forearm and sought to draw her away from any sort of argument with the other. This wouldn’t end well for anyone involved. Zorii had pulled her arm out of his grasp and crossed the way to where the hooded woman remained. She hadn’t even acknowledged Zorii in the slightest. Her head had tilted up to blow smoke out as Zorii cleared her throat. The suspense grew between both of the young women, but the brown-haired girl didn’t take another step. Zireael’s crew circled her, and a taller male stood to her right, daring her to take another step.

“Anything to say, Zireael?” Zorii asked with an air of confidence that Poe wasn’t positive that she should have at this moment. He usually adored when she got bold, but this was something that was asking for more trouble. He gulped as watched from behind given that.The chair scraped against the floor as Zireael rose and faced Zorii. The smug smirk on her lips would not remain much longer. Or that’s what everyone guessed. Her hand lifted to stop her crew from taking another step, and they bowed to her. Then she made a fist, and they went to their seats once more. She didn’t even have to speak a word to them! Poe was in awe of that. Striding across the small distance in front of Zorii, sucked in the smoke from the pipe and held it. Puckering her lips, she blew the smoke beside Zorii’s face before she spoke.

“Sit down, girl. My crew is resting and you have no friends here. I won’t entertain you.”

Zorii had turned her head from the smoke before Poe grabbed her arm and tugged her back. Spotting the small wave Zireael gave him before she moved back to her seat. They had evaded another fight. Without even glancing back at Zorii, he pulled her out of the tavern, recognizing this was his chance to avoid a needless quarrel. He didn’t care that Zorii was yelling at him, she had everything under control. He was fighting the impulse to run back into that tavern and plead for Zireael to let him accompany her or help him get home. Poe was having to fight himself as he hastened his pace to the docks. He needed to put distance between him and that place as quickly as possible.

“She was part of the Kijimi Fleet!” Griff whispered firmly as he slipped into the chair in front of Zireael. Her hood had fallen down and her hand gingerly touched her neck, seeking something. The action led to him to glare, but they had just picked up a lead without meaning to. She had already given two of her women the order to follow Zorii and the stranger that was with her. This was a serious lead in their job, and she was going to see that it didn’t slip away. Poe was close. Closer than she could even imagine.

“I heard. We can’t follow them just yet. We aren’t sure who all is with them and we need to see what the king wishes to do. Don’t rush this, Griff. We need to be careful before we strike.”

Zireael didn’t dare try to rush this, and was going to make sure that they had everything before proposing a strike. They had to see what Kes wished to do before they really acted. Her command went far. But this was his son. She wouldn’t overstep her bounds with that.

“Let’s rest for the night, and when the others come back, we can plan with Kes. I don’t want to raise any alarm. They might have slipped up once but they won’t do it repeatedly.”

With that, Zireael rose up and made her way out of the tavern. Passing by the table where the trio sat, she placed a pouch of coins on their table and patted the back of the silver-haired man.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Third month

They had been tracking the Kijimi Fleet for days. Waiting for the perfect time to seize and board their main ship. Kes remained to her right, and Griff on her left. Zireael felt proud of herself. Everything had fallen into place, and it was time to collect their reward. Ever since that night in the tavern, when she had the pleasure of encountering that girl, she had followed them. She had kept distance not to create any suspicion. It was all about to pay off.

“Zireael, you’ve done it.” Kes grasped her shoulder while the young privateer smirked. Had there ever been any doubt? She was young, but she always got the job done. This had just been another job for her, and she was about to close the deal.

“Don’t tell me that my pretty face made you consider I wouldn’t.” The ravenette chuckled while both the men snorted. However, there was one question that all of them but no one wanted to ask. “Your highness, do you think your boy will return with us?”

Just asking made her feel as if she had taken all the joy and happiness from the moment. This was something that she needed to acknowledge before she communicated with the leader and got near the prince. There were a plethora of challenges that could go down when they got on the main ship. Maybe the prince wasn’t even on the ship. Maybe they had taken him elsewhere and led them on a chase just to shake them off the trail. It wasn’t uncommon for that to happen.

“I - I can only hope that he does.”

That wasn’t the answer that any of them wanted, but it was the best that he could give them. There was the biggest possibility that Poe wouldn’t come with them, and all of this would be for nothing. Poe could run to them and give thanks that his father had come for him. Either way, they were all intimidated by how the leader would handle everything. They could create an unnecessary fight, and that could lead to something more fatal. There were too many risks for Zireael’s liking and with each one coming to mind provoked her to grind her teeth.

Her eyes lifted to the sky, and another obstacle rose. The ominous storm clouds were rolling in. Time was now of the essence, and she could curse all the deities in the world for this. They needed to catch up now or they would waste their chance.

“Let’s hope this storm holds off and let’s pray your boy has a moment of clarity.”

xxxxxxx

“They have been pursuing us for days, Zorii! We don’t even know who they are!” Marinda groaned as they all sat in Zorii’s cabin. Everyone was on edge and had been since they learned they were being tracked. They weren’t even certain who was following them, but everyone assumed it was because of the prince. Poe scratched at the awkward stubble growing on his face and simply shrugged his shoulders. Even he wasn’t sure who it was or could be. Did he wish it was his father and company coming to save him? Yes, but he didn’t think anyone would track him for this long. It had been three months since he had last been in Yavin, three months since he had seen his father, and Ro. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he missed her. He missed their simple summers together. What would they have done this summer in Yavin? She would have made him go to the water gardens with her. He would have teased her for not being able to reach any of the fruit that grew from the trees. He would scold her about forgetting her shoes on the way back to the castle. Although he would smile as he carried her on his back to the castle.

“Poe? Poe!” Zorii snapped her fingers in front of his face and he jumped slightly. Had he actually been that deep in his thoughts? That perhaps wasn’t the best thing to do during this meeting that they were having. Everyone was already blaming him as it was, and this didn’t make it any better.

“Could you repeat that?” He asked, working a hand through his unruly curls to move them from his forehead.

“Do you have any idea who they might be? Zorii asked with obvious irritation in her tone. He didn’t seem to care at this point. Zorii claimed his hands were just as stained as hers now. He was part of the Kijimi Fleet and always would be. She had even informed him that if his father found out that they would never welcome him home. Part of him absolutely believed her. He wasn’t a prince. Not in his eyes anymore.

“No, I don’t. They don’t have any colors that would link them to Yavin or Naboo.” Poe deliberately left out Cianna. That kingdom probably never wanted him to show his face again. It was probable that they had even declined to support Kes with any sort of expedition to find him. He could hardly imagine what Ro was going through. When he had first left, he considered she might be ecstatic and reveling in her freedom. But that wasn’t the case now. He thought of her telling him she would wait. Was she waiting for him right now? Or was she grieving, like Ignis had envisioned? He imagined Ignis was proud of himself after receiving the news. He had presumably swooped in to save the day. To mend her broken heart. There was that jealous feeling once again. He didn’t want Ignis anywhere near Ro. Yet there was little he could do now. He was miles away and he would never see home again.

There was still the thought of the young woman from that tavern. She differed from Zorii and Ro. Maybe he could find her again and join her company. She seemed far more respected by her crew than Zorii. Her crew feared her, and Poe wasn’t sure how he felt about that. There was a significant difference between being feared and being respected. He wanted that night at the tavern to have gone much differently. Poe wished he had left with the other, but that was a fading memory. He was with the Kijimi Fleet now, and he needed to accept that.

“Fine, let them catch up, and we’ll let them come on board. We’ll have a surprise for them when they do.”

The prince shivered at Zorii’s words. He didn’t need to ask what she meant or what she had arranged. He already knew, and this was going to be another test for him to prove his loyalty to them and hold his sickness down until after the ordeal.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It should have been a red flag when they neared the fleet’s main ship. Zireael ignored her gut instinct, though. This was certainly their moment, and she would not miss it. They had previously established that Kes would remain on their ship. It was much too risky to have the king with them. If they came back with no prince and a king barely hanging on by a thread, the entire kingdom of Yavin would make them pay. The ships were parallel, and she expected to meet the captain, but got approached by the brunette from the tavern. There was no way.

“Well, I can’t believe I’m facing you again. I’ll make this brief. King Kylo of Naboo is searching for a fugitive and I’m under his orders to investigate any vessel that I come across.” Zireael called out as she stepped onto the railing of her ship, Griff standing beside her as another stood beside the brunette.

“The king of Naboo has no say in this far out on the sea, but I will allow it. Make it quick.”

That should have been her first cue not to do it, but victory was in her clutch. Nothing else mattered in this moment to her. Nothing. They set the plank across to allow her and Griff to walk across. Her crew followed them. One false step and it was all over. The Kijimi crew offered no joy at seeing them on board and glared the minute that their boots touched the deck.

“I didn’t catch your name that night.” Zireael spoke as she readjusted her navy blue overcoat and held out her hand to Zorii. At least the ravenette was doing her best to appear civil to Zorii. She realized that the young woman didn’t want to even see at all. The eyes of her crew were burning into her and Griff’s forms. It didn’t matter to them. They were about to close another job, and that was all that mattered. Somewhere on this ship Prince Poe was hiding, but now it was time for him to come home.

“Zorii Wynn, I’m the captain of this ship.” She grasped Zireael’s forearm, and both of the women felt for any weapon that could be on the other. Convinced that they felt nothing on the other, they released their grip and gave each other a forced smile. Now it was time to investigate. She believed she hadn’t given Zorii any reason to suspect her purpose for being here. She believed that this wouldn’t take too long and that it would be an easy recovery, but she was ready either way. Giving the signal, Griff started below deck while she took the top. They could cover more of the ship this way and this would throw Zorii off the actual trail. She wouldn’t know who to follow. Without lingering on Zorii, the ravenette examined the deck and looked through anything that could hide someone. She investigated every crevice and cranny before she started on her way to the captain’s quarters. However, she noted Zorii was now trailing her, and that raised another flag to her. Zorii was hiding something.

Griff had completed a complete job hunting through the lower deck, despite all the resistance he had faced. They continued asking him why he was searching through everything and what he wanted. None of his answers pleased them. However, he had been interrupted by one girl, Marinda, and they had been taking part in a discussion that was being withheld from the others. The other members simply watched from afar and didn’t disturb them. After a few minutes, Griff made his way back to the top deck and went to find Zireael. He wondered if she had made any progress. The climb of the stairs seemed harder this time, and he dreaded the discovery that Zireael might have made.

He made certain to double check over the deck even though she was through, but he was letting take her time. This was going to be her moment, and he didn’t want to take that away. She truly deserved this, and he couldn’t wait to see how she handled it. He remained in the hall before striding into the captain’s quarters. However, the sight they greeted him with made him cease. There was the prince, gripping the hand of the captain, as Zireael simply looked at them. Zorii’s eyes found his, and he simply cleared his throat as Poe tore his eyes off of Zireael and to him. A flash of recognition shone in the prince’s eyes.

“I’ll ask you again. Where did you get that necklace?” Poe asked through gritted teeth. The necklace that Zireael wore was Ro’s necklace that he had given her the summer before he disappeared. That night had been special to both of them and for some stranger to wear it made him see red. It raised plenty of questions, and Griff could only shake his head.

“That is none of your concern!” Zireael’s voice trembled. She was losing control of herself. Her shield was coming down, and she was struggling to pull it all together. The last moments were upon them, and nothing was going as planned. Before anyone could register what was transpiring, Poe had seized the pleats of her coat and pressed her against the wall. This woman could have done something to Ro and stolen her necklace. The necklace that he had given her.

“Tell me!”

Zireael searched his brown eyes, and all she could see was fury. Her hand shook as she gently raised her hand up to her head. Grasping the top of her hair, she lifted off the raven wig and tossed it to the side. Fingers worked to pull out the pins and release the two burgundy braids. Griff shook his head while Zorii watched in confusion, not recognizing who this girl really was. It was all very confusing for her. However, the sight of Poe’s eyes lighting up at the sight almost went unseen. Her emerald hues searched his, and her hands moved out to cup his cheeks. Her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones.

“Poe. . .”

He leaned into her familiar touch and sighed. It had to be a dream. He had daydreamed of her gentle touch for practically three months, and here she was. It was happening, but it wouldn’t last long. He recognized that. Poe wished to hold her and never let her go. He wondered if his father was here with her. She had been searching for her since he had left, and that made his heart swell. She had crossed oceans and possibly suffered so much just to recover him.

“Ro.”

“Who is this, Poe? Get her off our ship! We don’t have time for this! We need to get back to Kijimi!” Zorii reached for Poe’s arm and led him back to her. Her eyes darkened as she studied with the girl who he called Ro. She had heard the stories of this princess, and here she stood. This was one that Zorii had been warned about, and she would not let Poe leave with her.

“Poe, you swore we would go back to Kijimi! We would change the kingdom! You can’t betray me!”

The tears were forming in Zorii’s eyes while Poe looked between her and Aurora. The young woman he had known since he was eight had come all this way to rescue him, and it tore him apart. Zorii’s pleads filled one ear, and Griff stood beside Ro. It didn’t take him long before he realized it was Ignis. His hair was darker, but he could somewhat see the braids that were hidden. Ro didn’t deserve any of this. She deserved far better, and he was different now. He had changed more than she could understand. The prince wasn’t the same, and he couldn’t expect her to accept that. He needed to stop putting himself first. He needed to think of her. It was time to do the right thing. Sighing, he straightened up beside Zorii and let out a nervous sigh.

“I’m sorry.”

It was at that moment that Ro realized Poe would not come back with them. He had taken another path that she wouldn’t be able to follow. This path would keep them apart for the rest of their days, and nothing would bring them back together. Her heart broke at the thought that this was going to be the last time that she would see Poe, and there was so much that she needed to tell him. However, she wouldn’t be able to, and it was tearing her apart. Her fingers were trembling at her sides, and all she craved to do was hug him again. She wanted to tell him that their engagement didn’t matter anymore, and she just needed her friend to come home. She wanted to beg Poe to just come home and be with Kes again. All the words were on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t force any of them out. Ignis kept his grip on her shoulder and lightly squeezed as they all watched at each other. They were only wasting time now.

“Me too.”

That was all she could say, and she wasn’t even sure if it made sense. It didn’t matter to her anymore. An arm draped around her shoulders and she was brought out of the quarters and back to the plank. Ignis stopped as he took her hand while she climbed up on the railing and crossed the slab. Her head was still high as she started the walk, and she didn’t let her own crew see she was defeated. She didn’t want them to see that she had lost and how upset that she actually was. No, she would make certain that they saw her as they always did. All that faded when Kes came to her and scanned around for Poe. All she could do was shake her head and wrap her arms around him tightly. Sniffling as she hid her face in his chest as she tried to hold back tears.

“I’m so sorry.”

The rain had started to fall and for once she couldn’t tell if it was her tears or if it was the raindrops.

xxxxx

Later that night, Poe sat up in the crow's nest, staring up at the sky. The rain had ceased some time ago, but he didn’t care either way. His eyes weren’t nearly as puffy now and couldn’t stop thinking about her. He could still see his father hugging her when he closed his eyes, but this was to protect them. Poe wasn’t the same anymore and had carried out unspeakable acts that would make his father more than disappointed. He was part of the Kijimi Fleet now, and that’s where he was going to remain. Maybe there would come a chance where he could come home and see them again. He might even see Ro again, but right now he couldn’t think of that. He couldn’t dwell on her. The moment he saw her hair, he almost forgot him. It was a simpler style, and he understood why, but missed seeing her hair in those styles. He had even noted how her cheeks held more freckles than he normally observed in the summer when they would see each other.

Zorii had ascended into the crow’s nest with him and for the first time, he realized how much of a tight fit it was. He did his best to scoot further away from her, but it wasn’t enough. Her head on his shoulder caused him to stiffen, and he didn’t care if she noticed. He didn’t care about much at this point and kept silent.

“Never betray me, Poe Dameron.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The encounter with Poe and Zorii hadn’t gone over how she planned at all. She would not reveal herself until after they had safely brought Poe back. However, her necklace had given her away. Ignis had advised her it would be a risk before they even left Yavin. However, Ro couldn’t make herself take it off. It had been a gift from Poe. Her last link to Poe and it had exposed her to him. There had been hope that when he realized it was her he would come back, but he simply apologized. She had gotten back on the ship and lied to Kes about not finding Poe.

Aurora had kept herself separate from everyone when she got back to the ship. Ro had even pushed Ignis away the moment they got back. She ordered him to oversee the journey home. It riddled her mind with so many questions, so many concerns, and thoughts of him. One thought that stood out to her was his warm brown eyes carried no light. They were so dull. Poe didn’t look like himself. That wasn’t the Poe she recalled. When he had realized who she was, there had been a small light, but it immediately diminished when Zorii spoke. What has taken place in these last three months? They had both changed, but she wasn’t certain if it had benefitted either of them. All she knew now was that she wanted to get to Yavin, then back to Cianna. She needed to be with her Da, momma, and her sister. Home. She craved home.

xxxx

Aurora remained between her father and Ignis as Kes addressed everyone about the prince’s disappearance. The chamber was remarkably warm, and she cursed her father for forcing her to wear this damn dress. It seemed to stick to her skin and trap all the warmth. Ro felt sick as she listened to the king. She had lied. She had lied to protect Poe and let him have his freedom. Her stomach coiled and churned. She could taste the bile building up and did her best not to get sick. Her index finger clawing at her skin around her thumbs, certain it was becoming red and irritated.

“However, I will honor Princess Aurora’s efforts in attempting to locate my son. I will honor her in the custom of her own kingdom.”

No. No. No.

Her green eyes grew with fear and she stared up at her father, who was just as shocked, and he nodded for her to go. She hadn’t earned a braid. No! That braid would be a lie! It wasn’t properly earned at all! Her knees trembled with each step that she took, head bending to Kes. Pressing her lips into a small smile, she shook her head to him.

“Your highness, I haven’t earned it. I could not bring the prince home to you and his people. I can not accept it.” She whispered as her eyes moistened once again. Kes shook his head before drawing her into a strong hug.

“You have earned more than you think. I will always consider you family.” He murmured into her ear. Her fingers twisted into his robes as she did her best to collect herself. Would he say that if he realized the truth? If he knew, she had lied to him and let Poe go with the Kijimi fleet. He drew back from the embrace and gently spun her to face the crowd.

“My braid won’t be as lovely as King Jaqen’s but I shall do my best.” He laughed, and the court followed. All but her. Instead, she looked down and struggled to keep herself from being sick. The moment that Kes gathered her hair and started a modest braid, she thought of Poe. What would he think about this? Would he tell his father how she had deceived him? How undeserving she really was. The darkness in her mind informed her that everybody knew she was a liar. They all knew, and they were simply mocking her. She would wear this braid and its weight would constantly be heavy with guilt. Shame that would remind her of how she deceived a king and his kingdom. The anxiety in her chest was growing and becoming tighter with each second. Ro wished to grasp his hands and scream at him to stop. She didn’t want this braid. Eventually, Kes had finished her braid and bound with her other ones. The whole chamber applauded and cheered for her, her vision blurring from the tears. These weren’t tears of happiness.

After the address finished, Ro dashed back to her room. Ransacking the room, looking for her dagger or anything to cut off the cursed braid. She opened every drawer and emptied its contents as tears streamed down her cheeks. Upon discovering a pair of scissors, she brought them to the base of the braid and looked in the mirror. Cut it. That’s all she had to do. Cut the damn braid and never think about it ever again. Her lip wobbled as she forced down another scream that had been scratching its way up her throat since she left Poe.

“Ro! Stop!” Ignis immediately slammed her door behind him and clutched her wrist. His other hand seized the scissors and set them on the dresser.

“Let me cut this damn braid, Ignis! I order you to let me cut the cursed thing!” Her fingers curved into tight fists as she tore them out of his grasp. Her nails dug into the skin of her palms.

“No! You earned it! Just because prince perfect didn’t come home is not your fault!”

“Shut up! Shut up! You don’t know him!”

“And you do? He left his kingdom, sailed with the Kijimi Fleet, and chose another girl over you! Poe has never loved you! Poe doesn’t love you, Aurora! He will never love you!”

She didn’t want to hear his remarks, and her hand came to caress her necklace. Shaking her head at Ignis because she couldn’t even find words. His words cut deeper than any blade could.

“No! You’re wrong!”

“Ro, please. I have watched since we were young. I see what you miss. Poe is selfish and will never love you. He established that long ago. Let go.”

Before she could stop him, Ignis had reached out and grasped her necklace. The leather was worn from all the exposure, and it took little for him to break it. However, he wasn’t expecting Ro to sink her nails into his skin as he seized it. He started towards the window and opened it. Her pleas were slipping out the window and without a second thought, he flung the necklace.

“There’s nothing to tie you to him anymore, princess.”

She collapsed to the floor as he quietly left her room. The breezing caused her to shiver before she brought a hand up to her lips. Biting down on a bent knuckle as she finally screamed. The other palm hitting the floor as she gave up control. Her teeth were leaving imprints on her skin and splitting the skin. The slight taste of copper on her tongue as she let the emotions escape her. Her tears hadn’t ceased, and her entire body rocked.

She felt numb.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Months after. . . .

A queen remained in her bed, struggling with each breath that she drew. Her hand tightly gripped by the husband that she adored, her children curled up beside her. The oldest princess wept the loudest, and her fingers tangled in her mother’s blouse. The princess was no stranger to loss anymore, but it wasn’t becoming easier. In fact, it was harder and harder. The father held his wife into a more comfortable position as she fought to brush their girls’ hair. Her fingers ran through their hair as she murmured a lullaby. With each breath she drew, they held theirs, scared it would be the last. When her eyes closed, their father took them back to their rooms and tucked them in, knowing that one of them would seek the other for comfort. He wasn’t shocked when he closed the oldest girl’s door and heard a wail so agonizing that he begged for the maker to ease her pain. The girl was moving and he could hear her destroying everything in her room, not caring what happened to it. She cursed every god that she had ever learned about. Her sobs and screams wracked through her lithe frame and she sank to her knees with her arms crossed and clutching her shoulders. Rocking back and forth as she let the tears spill down her cheeks. The kingdom all mourned that night, but none louder than she. However, they didn’t cry just for their beloved queen. They wept for her entire family, notably the oldest princess.

The snowy kingdom embraced the boy with wide arms, and the queen was overjoyed to have such a noble boy as her guest. She would offer him whatever he requested, craved, and desired, as long as he stayed. He would be taken care of. The girl held his hand as they walked the corridors of her home and taught him all that she could. However, it didn’t feel like home to him. No matter how many times the girl smiled at him, held his hand, or kissed him, it wasn’t enough. The queen’s gifts, dinners, and parties only drove him to miss home more. He missed the father that would give him advice and tease him. He missed his best friend that would always do his best to help him. However, the boy missed the girl that had always tried to be his friend; the girl was just as stubborn as he was; he missed her smile, her laugh, and more. Most importantly, he just missed her. When the news of another queen passing reached the snowy kingdom, the boy left in the dead of night. Not a word spoken to anyone. It was time to go home.

#TW: anxiety mention #TW: mentions of being sick #TW: character death #Poe Dameron x OFC #my writing #mar's writing #My OC #to capture a heart series #Tw: cursing #TW: Angst #Scheduled post

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flutteringphalanges · 3 years

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Night of the Living Dead (And Then Some)

Summary: It’s 1897 and the world as we know it has become overrun by zombies. An unlikely pair, a former nun by the name of Agatha Van Helsing, and a bloodthirsty vampire, Count Dracula, have formed an alliance in the hopes of surviving this debacle. Can the two learn to coexist or will they end up as just another mindless cog in life’s maniacal wheel?

Ship: Dragatha

Rating: M

Chapters: 1/2

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: An odd two part one shot that came to my mind. I wanted to do something Halloween-ish. I guess in a way this is a parody because it is Dracula and there are also zombies?! Anyway, hope you like hope it turned out! -Jen

Part One

Surprisingly, he hadn’t taken notice of the damn thing until her arrow nearly took him out. Dracula watched as the undead beast faltered briefly before falling still on the ground. Right in the center of the forehead. She was getting good. Perhaps too good. Nostrils flaring slightly, he rounded about to face her.

“That could’ve easily hit me.” He attempted to argue as Agatha strode forward to pluck her prized arrow from the corpse. “What if I had moved just a bit? That weapon of yours could’ve struck my heart.”

“And then I would have one less problem on my hands.” She replied simply, not so much as giving him the benefit of a look. “I knew what I was doing. If it hadn’t been for me, it would’ve gotten you and Lord knows what would happen if you were to get bit. There aren’t exactly many vampires about that we’ve seen cases of.”

“Must you bring God into this?” Dracula sighed, running a hand through his hair. “What do you want me to say, Agatha? Thank you?”

“That would be rather nice.” She sighed, cleaning off the grimy arrow. “But I have a feeling that I’m not going to get such a response from you. You are, as one might claim, a bit pig-head.”

“Pig headed?!” The vampire let out a humorless laugh. “Pig headed?! Why how your insults have grown since our first encounter, Agatha. If anyone is pig headed, it’s you for insisting we go to Brasov--which, I’ll inform you, was very overrun!”

“Everywhere is overrun, Dracula.” The former nun sighed, finally turning to look at the man. “Romania, Holland...it’s like a cesspit of flesh eating monsters that, well…” She paused for a moment. “Make you seem like a mere mosquito.”

The vampire’s eyes narrowed as the woman tossed her bow over her shoulder. Sometimes a small part of him felt the urge to end her right there. It would be so easy. But the bigger part refrained from that. Perhaps if he could read her mind at this very moment, she too felt the same way. Bickering was always better than dead. It was a good reminder to them both.

“Come on.” Agatha’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “It’ll be daylight soon and the last thing I need is for you to burn into a crisp.”

“If I’m not mistaken, I could’ve sworn you said you’d have one less problem without me.” Dracula countered with a smirk.

“The idea is becoming more tempting.” The woman replied with a huff. “Now come on, there is no telling what awaits us.” She gave a nod with her head. “This way then.”

The memory was still very vivid in his mind as he was sure it was in Agatha’s. The night he slaughtered every nun in St. Mary’s Convent but her. How the woman gave up her freedom, her life without a second thought in order to save meek, little Mina Murray. He’d had plans for Agatha. Devilish desires involving her blood. And in a way, perhaps she thought that somehow she could take advantage of him. Oh how the fates change when Death knocks at your door. A new side of unrest that he hadn’t seen in his several centuries of life.

“I don’t know about you, but I am quite parched.” Dracula said, breaking the long silence. “I haven’t had a human since...well...does tasting you count?” “You’ve survived years without drinking, I’m sure you can continue on just fine.” Agatha said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve been drinking river water and consuming squirrels and you don’t see me complaining. You don’t have to worry about dysentery.”

“I suppose having you become ill and me carrying for you would put a damper on our little excursion.” He smiled when he saw the glare on Agatha’s face. “What do you suppose would happen if I were bit? If I were to become “undead” undead? Would it reverse the process? Would I be human again? Or would I be a raging animal the likes of which this world has never seen?”

“I’d prefer not to think about either of us getting bit.” The former nun expressed. “We’ve seen what happens. How they turn. It isn’t pleasant.” There was a brief pause before she added. “...If I were to be bitten, I would highly appreciate if you would kill--”

Dracula stopped in his tracks and turned to face his partner. “Your death--at least in the way you are proposing it, isn’t at the top of my list.” No, losing her in that matter was not certain. “You will remain alive, Agatha...at least until I deem it otherwise.”

“Your version of being undead is only slightly less repulsive.” Agatha exclaimed, shaking her head. “Now hurry along, we’re losing nighttime.”

“Always so eager and demanding.” The vampire tutted with a smirk. “I have yet to decide exactly how I feel about that with you.”

The former nun merely rolled her eyes once more, a small smile gracing her features. “My complexity is one of my more charming qualities.” Her gaze flashed up to the full moon. “Perhaps there will come a day where you decide. Or not.” Agatha’s attention turned to the vampire, a look of amusement crossing her face. “And maybe, if you are lucky, I’ll look forward to your answer.”

“Perhaps.” The Count agreed. “Until then, it seems we are left to put up with each other.”

A low growl came from within the bushes nearby. Agatha and Dracula turned to see a creature stumbling out from the brush. His skin, just like his clothing, dangled in rags as he hobbled over to the two. Without so much as a second thought, the vampire produced his treasure saber and brought it swiftly through the zombie’s head. Even after centuries of going untouched. Years of battle it’d been in. The Count’s weapon of choice was rather practical--even if it wasn’t as secretly impressive as Agatha’s bow.

“A clean hit.” The former nun noted. “You’re improving.”

Dracula let out a laugh. “As if you know anything about true combat.”

“I was raised by Abraham Van Helsing.” She countered, folding her arms. “And I know you well enough to know that my grandfather was quite skilled.”

“He was no warlord.” Dracula commented, cocking one of his brows. “Now, while I’d love to have a friendly duel with you, I’d rather not run into any more of our acquaintance’s friends. As you were saying, we are losing time. Best keep moving.”

And Agatha was not one to argue with that.

XXX

Cold. Dark. Musky. The dilapidated hunting shed they’d come across at least didn’t stream a single beam of light in. Agatha didn’t know why she agreed to this. Her clothes being used as a means to cover the floor. Protect her from splinters. As Dracula’s pale, naked body moved against her’s, the only warmth she felt was from his cape underneath her bottom. Fucking the vampire was hot in the word sense, but icy from his touch.

“Just a nibble…” He purred into her ear, teeth lightly grazing her earlobe. “It won’t hurt.”

“I said...no to biting…” Agatha panted, her back arching as the pad to one of his thumbs ran across her hard nipple. “Rules.” “Rules are for sheep and conformists.” Dracula growled, his hand sliding down to just barely rest on her groin. He smiled as she stiffened knowing she was throbbing deep inside. Aching for him. “Last time I checked you were far from that, Agatha.”

“If you can’t control yourself, then I am more than happy to stop.” She offered, earning her a dark glare. She knew he was already hard. Cock pressed against her inner thigh. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this debate during sex and it wouldn’t be the last. “I’m not your bottle of wine, Count Dracula. No biting or no sex.”

“You are a temptress.” He grumbled, his mouth set in a look of displeasure. “A tease.”

“I am merely the apple on the tree in The Garden of Eden and you are both Eve and the snake. You are your worst enemy.” She chuckled at her own analogy knowing well enough that her comparison to religion was not looked kindly upon by the vampire. “Isn’t my touch enough?”

She let her fingers travel down to where his cock rested against her. Dracula had been the first and only man she’d ever been with. Every sexual experience had been with him. And despite what she at first thought it’d be like, she loved it. Craved it. Especially when she whittled him down to his last nerve. Agatha gingerly touched his head, feeling the droplets weep from their prison. Over four centuries old and with just a few decades herself, she could still make him squirm.

“With you, nothing is ever enough.” He said through a breathy whisper. “Never. Never. Ever.” And without a warning, he pushed a finger deep inside Agatha causing her to yelp with surprise. So wet. Two could play at that game. “There is a vein that runs down the length of your inner thigh that is particularly delightful.” Dracula explained, kissing the former nun hard. “It would be nice for the both of us.”

“You’re a pig.” Agatha gasped as the vampire touched her sensitive spot. There were stars and her vision blurred. Dracula seemed to realize this too and probed the area thoughtfully. She struggled to speak. “Stop it!” Don’t stop. Keep going. Faster. “I...I could...scream…”

“Worried about the undead in a time like this?” Dracula snorted. “My dearest Agatha, I believe you could shout as loudly as you desired and no one would hear. And I quite like that idea.” He could feel her hand grip tighter around his cock as if in response. It took everything in him to hold it together. “If you won’t give me your blood, at least let me hear you cry out my name. You owe me that much.”

Agatha gazed up at him with fury, but lustful blue eyes. He was winning this one. She hated when that happened. Though they were still shrouded in darkness, the former nun could still make out the glint of his smile as her hand released him and he positioned himself at her entrance. She bit down hard on her lower lip. Not because she anticipated the pain. No. She anticipated the pleasure and what was to come.

Dracula was rather unpredictable when it came to his part in sex. He could be soft, almost caring and considerate. Loving. Or he could fuck so hard that Agatha’s head was left spinning and she had bruises the next day. And if she were to be quite frank, she didn’t have a favorite. The vampire was always so good. So damn fantastic that with every thrust Agatha felt herself shaking deep from within her very core. Part of her wondered if there was a possibility she could become pregnant. It hadn’t happened yet, and they’d had quite a lot of sex. Still, it was always on the forefront of her mind when his seed spilled inside her.

“Say my name.”

The commanding voice pulled her from her thoughts and Agatha was dragged from the whimsical land of euphoria and to the wooden, shed floor. Dracula leaned over her, his lips curved into a smile. The former nun reached out and wound an arm around his neck to steady herself. She knew that he had her. He always did. But it helped.

“Say mine first.”

The words escaped out as a moan which did not help Agatha’s case. She was growing close to her climax, and Dracula could tell. His thrusts began to quicken, deepen as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. Then without thinking, she bit down on the vampire’s skin. That immediately stopped the man in his tracks.

“Did you just...bite me?” He asked breathlessly, grinning widely. “Oh, Agatha…”

There were no marks. Of course there wouldn’t be. But she was so caught up in the moment. Suddenly, it dawned on her as they lay there still in the throes of passion. A silly little thought that made her smile too.

“You.” She gasped out. “You said my name.”

“What?” Dracula interjected. “But I...that doesn’t count…”

“Still said it…” Agatha smirked, chest rising and following. “I win.”

“Oh, we will see about that.” The vampire chuckled darkly. “I’m just getting started.”

XXX

Though he’d said her name, Agatha had finished first. Twice even before Dracula met his limit. They fell back on their makeshift bed of clothing that they’d be putting on later. Her head resting on his chest, the woman watched the door quietly. Though she felt sleepy as the adrenaline rush began to fade, a part of her wanted to stay awake. But she knew how important it was to remain diligent. Especially at night.

“Romania has fallen to whatever caused this plague.” Dracula said softly. “And we don’t know where else it has stretched. Perhaps there's a chance it’s only here.”

“And Holland.” Agatha reminded solemnly. “We’ve been roaming around aimlessly. Seen less and less humans.” She was silent for a moment before she craned her head up to meet his stare. “I do realize how it affects you.”

His fingers ran down the base of her skull and followed the path of her spine. She closed her eyes as he stroked her back. It was soothing, though the conversation at hand was not. If humans were going to become like an endangered species, then what of Dracula? After everything she was taught. Everything she’d seen. Agatha knew deep down her feelings for the vampire weren’t right. But even deeper down she didn’t care. Not in the least bit.

“I have a proposition.” Dracula said after a moment’s thought. “And I have thought about this quite a bit. Much longer than this disease has been going on and much, much longer than my meeting you.”

Agatha sat up from where she lay. “What might that be?”

“England.” Dracula said simply, sitting up as well. “Where we’d go in England, it’d be more advanced than the villages we’ve gone to. Perhaps the virus isn’t there or even better, they have a cure. It is better than nothing.”

“England.” Agatha repeated as if she heard him right. “But we don’t even have a ship. That’s at least a few weeks' sail from the coast to the bay. How do you expect us to get there?” The expression on his face said it all. “...Is there no other way?” Not telling him no. Not forbidding him. It was as if in desperation she was accepting of the terms. “Is it the only way to be done?”

“Blood is lives, Agatha.” Dracula said, expression still. “Information. If we want to get across then I’m going to need the blood of someone who understands sailing among other things. Someone healthy--or at least not riddled with disease.” He touched her hand, surprised she didn’t pull away. “I’ll take only what I need.” The Count promised.

“And what if there are no survivors at the port?” The former nun whispered. “What if they’ve all turned?”

“Then we keep going.” The vampire sighed, leaning back. “You should get some rest. It’ll be a long journey to the port if memory serves correct. I’ll take watch.”

“You took the first watch last time.” Agatha countered, sitting up straighter. “And if you know where we are going, then you should be the one with the clear mind.” Dracula opened his mouth to interject, but she continued. “I’ll be fine. Trust me. I’ll wake you up in a few hours. Besides, I am considerably more accurate with killing the creatures than you are with that ridiculous saber. You needn’t be so close with a bow.”

“Ah, you say that now but wait until those flimsy things split in two and your string breaks. Then you’ll be wishing you were brandishing reliable steel.” Dracula chortled. “Honestly, of all the weapons to choose from…”

“Go to sleep you warmonger.” Agatha snorted, resting a hand on his head as he lowered himself down. “There will be other times to debate weapons. Get some rest.”

“Wake me if anything happens.” The vampire said with sudden alertness. “I am not playing, Agatha. At any immediate threat of danger, you must wake me up. Even if the sun has yet to set.”

“You have my word.” The woman promised as the Count’s body relaxed. “Sleep.”

XXX

Agatha didn’t wake Dracula up after a few hours. Instead, when she was sure the sun was setting just enough as to not be so bright, she covered the vampire’s body as not to expose it and slipped outside. She inhaled deeply, enjoying what little light was left. She missed the day--though she kept that knowledge from Dracula. It was harder at night. Finding food. Water. But the few times she could escape. Sneak out without him worrying--those were good times.

Thunk!

The partridge didn’t even see the arrow before it pierced straight through its body. It was an instant kill, one Agatha wished for every living thing she killed--maybe, if she thought hard about it, she’d feel the same about the undead. Picking up the decent sized fowl, she couldn’t help but admire it. After a good plucking and cooking, this would last her a few days. Especially if she could come across some salt and preserve it. Now that would be true luck.

As Agatha walked over to what had perhaps once been a sort of fire pit, she took a seat down in the ground. Yank off handfuls of feathers, her mind kept wandering back to Dracula. His own need for food. Something he hadn’t been as fortunate to get. And maybe he deserved it. After all of the evil he caused, maybe this was fate’s punishment. But Agatha’s judgement, though questionable, began to consider something that maybe was pushing the bounds of her sanity even more.

Abandoning the bird for the time being, she made her way back into their temporary housing. Dracula was still fast asleep--he was odd like that, how deeply or not his slumbering was. Retrieving one of the jars she used for water, she returned outside. There truly was no means to prepare her hand for what she planned. Nothing to clean it with--she was out of water. But taking her arrow, the blood from the bird now smeared down her pant’s leg, she sliced her palm wide open and held it over the jar.

It burned. Ached. Maybe she’d gone too far. Too deep. And as her blood flowed, she half expected Dracula to be roused from his sleep and attack her simply because he was in such dire need of the crimson fluid. But instead, everything was still silent. She bit her lip, her eyes pricked with tears as the bleeding thankfully began to stop on its own. A good sign that maybe she had injured herself too horribly. Careful not to spill a drop, she tore off a piece of her sleeve and bound her cut hand.

If there was to be a good deed done, this would certainly qualify for Agatha. That was, at least for today.

XXX

“Well out of all outcomes, I certainly didn’t expect this!”

Agatha’s nostrils flared as Dracula, though his eyes burned that frightening shade of black with hunger, did not take the jar immediately from her. Instead, he stared at her hand looking equally as upset. When he reached out to take it, she yanked it back almost tempted to spill the blood all over the floor.

“Well out of all the outcomes, Agatha, I can’t say I expected you to slice your hand open for me!” He tried to grab for it again, this time managing to catch her wrist. “Let me see it. Did you even try to clean it?”

“Why can’t you just drink the blood?” Agatha sighed as he studied the wound. “I was trying to be nice. You talk about being oh so thirsty all of the time and craving me during sex. Well, this is what you want, yes? A true taste of me?”

“Not when it involves you injuring yourself!” The Count let out a dramatic huff. “You’re lucky this isn’t too terribly deep. As I recall, you need both hands for your weapon. We’ll have to watch it and make sure it doesn’t get infected.” The vampire shook his head. “And you went behind my back and took my sleep shift.”

“I was enjoying the daylight!” Agatha hissed, now getting annoyed. “And I caught myself something to eat! I didn’t have to rely on someone else! Not to mention be appreciative of it!” She slid the jar over, watching Dracula’s Adam's apple bob as he swallowed the liquid whishing within.

Then, without another word, Dracula lifted up the cup and gulped down the contents in less than a second. When he set it down, his eyes fixed on Agatha and a chill ran down her spine. Cold. Hungry. Lack of recognition. She could hear the vampire’s breathing becoming heavier as he moved closer. Was this it then? Had she given him a wine tasting that led to the draining of the whole bottle.

“D...Dracula?”

Her voice was soft, shaking as she scooted backwards. She looked around the room for any sort of weapon in arm’s reach. Conveniently, his saber was on the opposite wall to her and the bow and arrows were out of sight. Agatha swallowed and tried to remain calm. If this was truly the end, she’d rather it’d be by his doing than that of one of those creatures. Instinctively her eyes closed as he loomed over her, the former nun waiting for his attack when a pair of arms pulled her in.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was gruff, breathing more labored than intense. “I’m okay…”

Agatha looked up only to come face to face with Dracula. She could see her own blood smeared across his lips, smelled it's strange rusty scent. How that was appetizing to the vampire, she did not know.

“I thought…” She began, quite unsure what to say. “After you drank my blood, I thought that you would…”

“Given our current circumstances, my ability to remain in control might be a little rustier than I thought.” He gave her a small smirk. “I suppose it was a good thing that I didn’t bite you during sex. Could’ve led to a less than pleasurable end.” He was silent for a moment. “Thank you. For your blood. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” Agatha said simply. “I wanted to.”

“And I must say, you are quite gifted with your weapon abilities.” The vampire said with a small smile. “Abraham, though we had our...differences...trained you well. Though, I have to admit you were pretty talented with that Pattern 1853 Enfield of his. Where did it come across a rifle-musket like that? Couldn’t have been easy, especially due to the legality of it.”

“I think we should make a new rule now that you’ve consumed by blood.” Agatha said, folding her arms over her chest. “You don’t bring up any details you’ve received from my blood--unless, of course, I offer them up in conversation.”

“Pity.” Dracula said, letting out a fake, long sigh. “I have so many.”

“You should have thought about that beforehand.” The former nun exclaimed. “Questions that go unanswered can be such a bother.”

“Like an ex nun wielding a gun better than the average soldier.” The vampire replied, with a small, lopsided grin.

“Careful.” Agatha warned. “I might’ve not had practice in a few years, but I am rather sure that if I were to pick up a said rifle of my choice, my aim would be fairly decent.” She exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “You should finish dressing. The sun has set enough for us to leave.”

Though she knew that their decision was the right one, part of Agatha didn’t want to leave the shack. Despite how messy and unkempt it was, it had proven to be safe. But staying anywhere too long, they had learned, didn’t always end up so. The former nun exhaled and glanced towards the rotting door and tried to push past what horrors awaited them.

XXX

“La naiba!” Dracula cursed in his native tongue as he peered over the hill. “Trebuie să glumești…”

“Maybe speak in English?” Agatha said from his side. “Ik spreek een klein beetje Nederland.” She hoped that her attempt at light humor would cause him to smile, but the serious expression did not leave his face. “What is it?”

“A horde.” He hissed under his breath. “By the main entrance into the shipyard.”

“Can you tell how many?” She replied, straining her eyes. Agatha could see movement from down below, but not much else. “...Do you think there is anyone even alive?”

“At least ten.” Dracula answered, trying to hide the defeat in his tone. “And I don’t know. Not with a group like that lurking about. And who knows how many are separated from the main herd? We could try to kill them and then look around.” He turned to meet Agatha’s stare. “I am far as one can be from a man of prayer and I know you are unique in your beliefs, but we could really use one of your mystique rituals...without a cross would be appreciated.” His attempt at a failed joke.

“We’ve come all this way.” Agatha said, moving to grab her bow. “We might as well try.” A small grin flickered across her features. “I should’ve taken the gun from my grandfather. My brother never learned to shoot anyway.”

Together, as quietly as they could, Dracula and Agatha slid down the hill. As they moved towards the horde, other zombies began to amble out from abandoned buildings. Their moves were quick, swift in killing the creatures before they could alert the others. When they drew nearer, the vampire grabbed the former nun by the forearm and pulled her in close.

“Fall back a little and find higher ground. That way you can aim better. I’ll be fine down here.” She didn’t seem so keen on the idea as he placed a kiss on her lips. “Go. Now.”

Agatha’s footfalls were soft against the dirt ground. When she stopped in her tracks, she glanced around at the sight before her. How could anyone be left alive after this? It was then she saw a pile of rubble against a collapsed building. Perfect. But just as Agatha approached her access point, she was caught off guard by a zombie. The creature made a grab for her and knocked her flat on her back. The former nun struggled, gritting her teeth as she shoved it off. With a powerful smack, she struck it with an arrow through the head. The thing fell limp and the woman scrambled to her feet.

Heart still pounding, Agatha shook her head and looked towards the direction of the horde. Dracula hadn’t seen what had just occurred and for that she was thankful. Refocusing on the house, she made her way to the debris and scrambled up. It was then she realized that while the vampire had a point about her having a higher shooting range, making him out in the midst of the ravage was too risky. He wouldn’t be happy about it, but he damn well needed her if he didn’t want to end up...something other than his usual “undead”.

“Agatha!” Dracula snapped in surprise as a zombie’s head collided with his shoe. “What the hell are you doing?!” “Saving you!” The woman declared, aiming her bow towards one of the creatures. “Clearly you need it.”

“I told you to go up somewhere high!” He insisted, lobbing off another head. “For once can you listen to me?!”

“You forget I don’t have night vision!” Agatha hissed, hitting a zombie straight between the eyes. “I don’t know why you worry so much about me. I--”

She didn’t realize the thing was behind her until it sunk its rotten teeth deep into her forearm. Agatha cried out in a mixture of shock and horror as blood spurted from the wound. Almost instantly the creature’s head lay at her feet, the horde now completely destroyed. A look of horror was etched across Dracula’s face. One she had never seen before. The former nun grabbed her injury tightly, her heart banging so hard that her chest ache.

Christ, she’d really screwed up.

I hope you enjoyed part one (of two)! I know it is a different kind of story! Dracula was saying in Romanian: “Dammit” and “You must be kidding” while Agatha said in Dutch: “I speak a little bit of the Netherlands (or Dutch).” Anyway, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Motivation helps so much! Until the next part! Stay safe and healthy! -Jen

#Dracula #Dragatha #Dracula 2020 #Agatha Van Helsing #Dracula x Agatha #BBC Dracula #Dracula on Netflix #Night of the Living Dead (And Then Some)

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dancingsparks · 4 years

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When The World Was Asleep

I wrote this for the incredible and wonderful @fictional, to say happy birthday and express how happy I am that we are friends.

Thank you @randoyoyo and cigal for beta-reading this fic and making it better.

Also on Ao3

“Are you certain this is a good idea?” Draco doesn’t dare to speak above a whisper, heart beating high in his throat and cold creeping up his feet. (He really wishes he wore shoes, but Draco has raided the Manor's kitchen often enough to know that sneaking is easier in socks. Some things are worth the cold.)

“Yes, absolutely certain. 100%. Why, are you scared?” Theo is smirking back at him, the Lumos giving his face an eerie shine. Draco scowls at him. He is not afraid, he is not a baby after all!

Although, it is quite dark here. And they are all alone, in a castle they haven’t even begun to learn, twisting staircases sworn against them and ill-tempered portraits Draco doesn’t yet know well enough to bribe potentially watching and reporting their every move. Draco doesn’t even want to know what could happen if they were found out — surely there would be consequences.

Most importantly, his mother wouldn’t like it. Draco can already see her disappointed frown, the way she would hold the letter detailing Draco’s failure, looking from the lines the spot where Draco would be standing, praying to Merlin the ground would swallow him to escape her lecture. It would be useless to hope, foolish and far too late by then, her disapproval long since conveyed and shame hanging heavy over him.

Perhaps they shouldn’t do this. It was a bad idea, wandering through poorly lit corridors on nothing but promises, doomed to –

“Hey Draco, calm down. You trust me, don’t you?” That’s a big thing Theo is asking here, trust, but Draco finds himself nodding before he even realises that.

That is how he ended up here in the first place, agreeing too quickly, charmed by a smile. Draco was merely talking about breaking into the kitchen, Theo was the one who suddenly lit up and challenged him to do it. And Draco never could back down from a challenge.

“Good, that’s good. Just remember that and think of the pastries, alright? They will be worth it.” Draco would glare at Theo for treating him like a baby, but the thought of the delicious pastries is enough to spare Theo. Draco can smell them in the air already, can feel them calling out to him, just waiting for him to come and collect them.

“Exactly, so if you are done standing around, we can finally move on.” Draco almost sounds like his father when he uses that tone of voice, all subtle demand and politely covered impatience.

His father is never laughed at, though. It’s lucky for Theo that he is already walking again, or Draco would have to confront him about it. But as it is, Draco is sure they are nearly there, the pastries beckoning him closer and closer —

“Malfoy?” Draco stops, freezing at his name being called. Surely he must have heard wrong. Or maybe it was Theo, who is looking at Draco with wide eyes and, now that Draco thinks about it, actually sounds completely different. It most likely was not Theo. Which means someone is here, someone saw him and Draco needs to find a good excuse if he doesn’t want to be expelled. “What are you doing here?”

Now that he thinks about it, Draco knows that voice. Too young to be a professor, too suspicious to be a friend, oddly hostile from the very first moment — Potter. Of course, it has to be Potter. Of course.

Draco can only hope that Theo is still undiscovered, hidden in the shadows and disappearing back into them with a meaningful look. He’ll get the pastries while Draco stays and distracts Potter. Fantastic. At least Potter is easily handled, the only thing Draco has to do is make sure he has all of his attention. Draco has charmed enough of his father’s friends to know he can do that.

“Potter, such a nice surprise to meet you here!” A lie, obviously. Draco has never been less happy to see Potter.

Potter frowns even harder than before, which would be an admirable thing had anyone else done it (it still is, but Draco absolutely refuses to acknowledge that). Draco gifts him with his best smile, the one that convinces the house-elves to secretly bring him hot chocolate whenever he wants and more often than once made his mother smile when she was sad. Potter, however, looks more confused than anything else.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you didn’t answer the question.” In truth Draco was hoping for exactly that. Apparently everything must be difficult with Potter. “I’ll ask again: what are you doing here?”

Draco has to resist turning around and checking the corridor Theo disappeared into. Potter might not be particularly smart (proven by his choice of clothes and friends) but even he would realise he is being masterfully distracted. No, Draco has to keep him here, too wrapped up in Draco to think of anything else. Only, now that his smile was not as appreciated as it deserves to be, Draco doesn’t know what else to do.

Draco isn't often helpless, but when he does find himself in such a situation, he knows a sure way out of them: what would his father do?

Lucius Malfoy surely never had to cover up pastry-smugglings, but Draco has seen him steer away nosey Ministry employees often enough to learn a thing or two.

Draco draws himself up to his full height, head held high and posture impeccable. He is taller than Potter, and Draco makes sure Potter knows that too, forcing him to look up at him. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I have permission to be here.”

Potter doesn’t believe him. He also doesn't answer the heavily implied do you have permission? He just stands there, glaring at Draco and not convinced at all. Draco can do better than this.

“You see, Professor Snape”, Draco watches with satisfaction as Potter’s expression darkens, “he trusted me with a special task. I’m afraid you can’t be trusted with the details —” That was the wrong thing to say.

Potter is a brute, half-wild and without manners. Draco really should have known that after he so rudely refused to shake hands with Draco, but he didn’t think Potter would go as far as attacking him. That is exactly what Potter does though, making low grumbling noises that might be words and lunging at him, getting dangerously close to Draco.

This, Draco thinks, is what his father means when he talks about blood supremacy. Muggles are basically animals — less evolved than even some animals, one might argue — and the only thing they are good at is spreading their filth and tainting everything they touch. And blood, more than anything else, is vulnerable as much as it is strong.

Potter, however, stops, a few inches away from choking the life out of Draco, staring at something over his shoulder. Which is extremely rude, even for Potter. If he is going to attack someone he can at least look at them at them while he does it. That’s just basic decency.

“Brought your friends, did you Malfoy? I should have known. His Highness doesn’t go anywhere by himself, after all.” Friends? What is Potter talking — Theo. Theo must have returned, carelessly didn’t check if Potter was still around and now Draco’s pastries are in danger.

This might be worse than being killed by Potter (he would at least die a mourned martyr, sure to be avenged).

Draco has to think fast if he wants any chance of turning this disaster around. He knows exactly what his father would do: smoothly hint at generous donations waiting in the future, promise his support or silence on certain matters. Lucius Malfoy is good at making people see reason, and he made sure Draco knows every trick there is. That also involves judging when the effort is worth the outcome though. Potter, in his stubborn naivety and annoying moral righteousness — bribing him would be exhausting and require more time than he has. While Draco would love to wear him down, prove that Potter is not better than him, much as he likes to act it, he needs to be smart about this.

“Oh, you mean Theo? He is just carrying — well, you don’t need to know what he is carrying. Professor Snape would not be pleased to hear we are talking about his best-kept secrets so freely.” Potter’s eyes light up, focusing on the basket as if he could coax it’s secrets by staring hard enough. Draco would call that a full success, very quietly so no one can overhear and mess with the next steps of his brilliant scheme.

“What are you bringing him?” Potter’s voice is a hilarious mixture of horrified and interested, wanting to know more despite himself. Exactly as planned. Draco can hardly keep the proud expression of his face.

“I couldn’t possibly tell you! He would be very angry if he heard.” That finally gets Potters attention again, looking at Draco instead of the pastries.

Potter is thinking hard, studying Draco as if looking for a trap. He won’t find it though, Draco is too smart to be caught.

“What if I promise not to tell anyone?” It doesn’t escape Draco that, as eager as Potter sounds, he hasn’t actually promised not to tell. Did Potter notice too? More likely he simply plans on breaking his promise, that Potter should possess a stealthy wit as doubtful as him not telling Weasley the first chance he gets. That’s fine with Draco, once they are out of this situation, they can deny everything. Who is going to believe Potter over them?

Draco makes a great show of considering Potter’s proposal, glancing between him and the pastries, watching him grow more and more impatient. It’s only Theo’s subtle cough that startles him out of his game, Draco could have gone on all night.

“Alright, as long as you promise not to breathe a single word about this!” Potter still doesn’t promise, only nods vaguely as he pushes past Draco to look into the basket. Draco would be insulted if Potter wasn’t neatly falling into Draco's trap, his face lighting up as he discovers the pastries.

“You are bringing pastries to Snape? Ron swore that old bat sucks blood out of students at night. Just wait until he hears …” Potter trails off, finally realising what ‘not telling anyone’ means. If it wasn’t so bothersome, Draco could almost admire his loyalty.

“Now Potter, you better remember what you promised. You said you would keep the secret.” Potter looks conflicted for all but a second, before he juts his chin out and crosses his arms, turning to scowl at Draco. He probably means to look determined, hoping Draco won’t argue with what he says next, but Draco really wants to tell him he looks like a pouting toddler. He would, too, if it wasn’t important to the plan that Potter feels he has the upper hand here.

So Draco doesn’t say it; instead he focuses on the picture he makes and tries his best to commit it to memory to tease him later.

“I think I changed my mind about that, Malfoy. It doesn’t seem fair to me, that you get all these pastries and I have to keep the secret and not get even one.” Draco doesn’t point out that they shouldn’t get pastries either, that in this scenario, Snape would want them all for himself. This is what Draco aimed for after all, to bribe Potter with pastries into letting them go without Potter realising he is being manipulated. It’s by far the most effective way out.

After some grumbling and watching Potter look smug, once again interrupted by Theo (why did Draco bring him again?) Draco heaves a sigh and gestures at the pastries. “Fine, you may choose one. You are lucky I feel generous tonight.”

Potter snorts but doesn’t answer him. Draco is oddly disappointed at that.

“They all look good, how am I supposed to choose one?” That is a problem Draco can relate to, the first sign that Potter does have some decent values after all.

“Just take a treacle tart, you’ll like it.” Potter grins at him, forgetting for a moment that he doesn’t like Draco, and takes the pastry. Theo looks bored out of his mind, but Draco can’t bring himself to care, not when he can watch Potter have his first taste of the tart.

Saying Draco is nervous as he watches him chew would be too much, but he definitely wants to know how Potter likes it. Not that he cares about Potter’s opinion, obviously, this is purely about making sure he judged him right. That’s all there is to it.

Draco forgets all about justifying his nerves at Potter’s slow smile.

“This is really good. Who would have thought you have such good taste, Malfoy?” Potter smiles at him, half of his face covered in crumbles from the sweet pastry, his eyes almost friendly. Draco wants to answer something snide, something about how they are all lost if Potter were to be a judge of good taste, but he is completely lost in that smile. It’s unfair, that Potter can make him lose his mind with nothing but a smile, that he looks so handsome despite the crumbs on his face.

Draco doesn’t want Potter to ever stop smiling at him.

“While this is all very nice, Draco and I do have to go now. Snape is waiting and all that. Goodnight, Potter.” Draco could curse Theo as he drags him away, forcing him to leave Potter standing all alone, the pastry still in his hand and the smile growing smaller.

“Get it together Malfoy, how much longer did you want to stand around there?” Right, yes. Draco was not supposed to take this long, to stare at Potter and think about how nice he looks. Thank Merlin Theo was there to remind him of his priorities.

(If Draco finds his thoughts slipping back to that night and Potter’s smile, if he ever thinks about maybe offering Potter a second treacle tart to see that smile again and break the silence hanging over the moment, well, no one has to know.)

***

Draco never liked the dark. It’s the oldest of cliches, fear of the unknown, embarrassing and pathetic, but not even his father’s increasingly reckless attempts at conquering this weakness could cure him. No, Draco never liked the dark and he still doesn’t, but it’s getting harder and harder to escape.

It’s easy enough to distract himself during the day, to sneer and scoff and flaunt derision like a shield around him. But at night, laying in a bed, sleep long since abandoned, there is nothing to hide him from the looming shadows. Draco tried to ignore them, pretended he didn’t know where his father kept disappearing to, kept his head down and hoped things would be over before they started. It was foolish and naive, the prayers of a scared little boy still believing in miracles and heroes.

Somewhere along the way, Draco lost his ability to deny the undeniable. He can’t act like everything is normal anymore, like Potter is just a demented nut-case clamouring for attention.

Damned Potter, he really has an aggravating predilection of ruining Draco’s life. Of course he has to be involved in this nightmare, always the root of chaos. The public might not believe Potter, might be better than Draco at deliberate ignorance, but Draco knows Potter is responsible for this. And yet Potter has the gall to run around like he is the victim here, suffering and moping and making sure everyone is aware of it. Draco can’t stand it.

Arguably the worst thing is that he can’t even complain about the git effectively. There are things better not talked about, and while making fun of Potter’s hair used to be enough, it doesn’t address the real problem anymore. Most likely it never did in the first place, but back then Draco was better at ignoring his problems. These days they never leave him, imposing in silent judgement, impossible to forget or outrun.

That doesn’t mean that Draco doesn’t try. He might have lost his naivety, but he is still stubborn. So he keeps on not acknowledging the truth beyond conceding its existence, keeps on walking and tells himself he doesn’t realise the darkness is gaining ground, that things will crumble very soon.

At least this way, his magic keeping up the small ball of light, his feet carrying him through the now familiar corridors, Draco feels like he has some control left, the semblance of a choice.

Draco is in fact so determined to just walk straight ahead and tune out everything else, that he doesn’t realise he isn’t as alone as he thought until he runs into someone else. And it’s undeniably someone Draco collides with, their hands grabbing his arms for balance and their heads knocking together. It’s painful and undignified and the absolute last thing Draco needs.

“Watch where you’re going, you arrogant wanker.” Draco moves past them, hoping to avoid having a conversation and get on with his brooding.

“That’s rich coming from you.” He knows that voice, would recognise it anywhere — Potter. Of course it’s Harry bloody Potter. Just when Draco thought this night couldn’t possibly get worse.

“Potter, what a pleasant surprise to meet you here.” Potter looks tired, the small light casting shadows on his face and revealing the dark circles under his eyes, the mussed mess of his hair. Potter looks about as wretched as Draco feels. And yet here he stands, head high in defiance and daring Draco to comment. Potter has always been stupidly brave.

Draco doesn’t know how to deal with him, with how uncompromisingly Potter reflects the emotions Draco tries so hard to bury in himself.

“Can’t say the pleasure is mutual.” There is something about the way Potter says it, hollow and not quite there, the most obvious retort that Draco would have perhaps expected from Weasley, but that seems far too flat for Potter. It grates on him, already unsettled by Potter’s appearance and his pent-up frustration, oddly offended by Potter’s lack of originality in his jape.

This isn’t like Potter at all, devoid of any tangible emotion, eyes glazed over, entirely too still. Potter looks vacant, not really present, staring right through Draco and seeing nothing. This goes beyond one night of little sleep, beyond simply being startled by running into Draco. Now that he considers it, Potter has been like this for weeks now, even months, maybe.

Draco never thought this day would come, but he misses Potter. He misses poking Potter’s temper and watching his anger flare up, wants to see the spark in his eyes and hear his voice full of — right. Draco didn’t realise he spent quite this much time thinking about Potter. Or that it would hit him this hard to see Potter hurt.

For some reason, that only makes Draco angrier.

Who does Potter think he is? Standing there all sad and vulnerable, sparing Draco not even a glance, too absorbed in his misery. This was supposed to be Draco’s escape, the one time of the day that he can just exist and — admittedly — indulge his own misery for a few hours. But Potter has to steal these too, hasn’t he?

Well, Draco is done letting Potter take whatever he wants. He has seen enough, has limited himself to comments and observations when he should have stepped in far sooner. And now see where it got him. Draco’s life is falling apart, Potter is once again claiming the spotlights and nothing is making sense anymore.

Potter still just looks through him, not moved at all and standing far too close — why does he stand this close? No wonder Draco can’t think, not with Potter crowded against him and invading his mind, leaving him no space to move let alone form thoughts. If Draco could just get some space, just some time to consider all of this, preferably away from Potter and his oppressive quiet.

It’s too much, Potter close enough to count the freckles on his face but so far away, emotions whirling inside Draco and refusing to settle down, everything loud and hurt and so full — Draco pushes Potter away.

There is an unexpected rush of giddy satisfaction cursing through him, seeing Potter stumble and knowing Draco is the one who made him lose his footing — it’s an intoxicating kind of power like Draco never felt before.

“What the hell, Malfoy?” Finally. This is the Potter Draco wants, spitting mad and glaring, anger coiling around him and his eyes boring into Draco.

This is exactly what Draco needed, not to wander alone in these drab halls or to turn his thoughts over and over again. No, all he needed was Potter, shoving him hard against the wall, his fury burning away everything else.

“What? Nothing more to say? Pathetic, Malfoy. I thought you had more fight than that.” The words are whispered into his ear, Potter’s breath hot against his face, his hands holding Draco’s wrists, pressing him into the wall with his fight.

As loath as Draco is to admit it, Potter is right. This fight was embarrassingly short. It can barely even be classified as a fight, not with how easily Potter restrained him.

As cleansing as Potter’s anger might be, Draco resents being handled like this, like it doesn’t take any effort at all to keep him pinned. Potter is lucky Draco can’t reach his wand, or their positions would be turned before Potter realised what happened. Then Draco would be the one smirking.

Unfortunately, all Draco can actually do is struggle in Potter’s hold, trying to free his hands and push him off. Potter only laughs at his efforts, that bastard.

“Don’t give yourself too much credit Potter, I’m simply too sophisticated to excel in this brutish muggle brawling. Figured you would be good at it, considering —”

“Merlin, Malfoy, just shut up for once, would you?” Before Draco can respond to that, can even think of what to say to that, Potter is kissing him.

If it can be called a kiss, that is, brutal and biting, much more forceful than any of the tentative kisses Draco shared before. Much better too. Potter knows exactly what he wants, hands gripping tightly at his hair, pulling Draco’s head up to meet him, crowding him closer against the wall.

It’s overwhelming, Potter’s lips on his, the desperate noises he makes, his hair between Draco’s fingers, everything hot around them, muffled, nothing as important as Potter kissing him, demanding more and more until Draco’s lungs burn from the lack of air.

Draco never wants him to stop.

Potter breaks away suddenly, panting heavily and staring at Draco in wonder, the hands in his hair softened to almost cradling Draco’s face. Potter’s eyes are glazed again, unfocused from pure pleasure and because of Draco, this time. It’s a far better look on him.

No matter how good Potter looks like this though — lips red and kiss-bitten, skin flushed dark, hair a mess — Draco wants him closer again. He wants to feel his hunger again, wants to lose himself in Potter and see what noises he can get him to make, wants to brace himself against Potter’s ferocity and forget the world around them.

Potter stubbornly resists Draco tugging his hair to get him back down. It’s a whole new kind of cruelty Draco didn’t think him capable of, taunting him with being so near and so out of reach. He leans over Draco and just looks at him, Potter’s fingers tracing his cheekbones, his nose, his lips, sending shivers down his spine. It's wonderful and tantalising and not enough, not what Draco wants.

“Are you going to kiss me again, or what?” The moment the words leave his mouth, Draco wishes he hadn’t said them.

Potter breaks away as if suddenly realising just who he is pressed up against, glancing up and down the corridor in wild panic and leaving Draco stumbling at the sudden loss. It’s abundantly clear, even without the bewildered look Potter shoots him before turning around and running away — Draco broke the moment, beyond repair.

Alone again in the echoing darkness, Draco can’t help but feel he should have expected this. Good things never last. And whatever else that kiss was (fantastic, consuming, addictive, tender, primal) it was definitely a good thing.

***

Potter quite effectively ruined the brooding wanderer thing for Draco. It’s not about escaping anymore, with just one encounter Potter made it all about him. Draco simultaneously hopes and dreads to run into him again. There are only so many nights he could meander through the corridors, not sure what he is looking for and even less certain if he wants to find it.

So, after glaring at Potter and cursing him under his breath, Draco decides he needs a new habit. Something to keep him busy when the night brings truths he doesn’t want to face.

Breaking into the Prefects’ bathroom seemed like the ideal task.

Draco has always enjoyed charms, liked figuring how they all work together to build the most complex of wards and constructions. Plus, dismantling wards is a necessary skill when one is as unabashedly curious as Draco is. With his friends all knowing better than to leave their things unprotected, he learnt early on to sneak past the protective charms they would put on their trunks. All things considered, snooping is a very rewarding fault. Draco learnt more than his fair share of secrets, and the better his friends got at warding, the better he got at evading them.

Even with all that experience though, cracking Hogwarts’ wards seems more than a little daunting. Probably a good thing. Anything else would have been concerning, to say the least. Since Draco has no intention of actually breaking in though, that hardly matters. It’s about the puzzle, the thrill of discovering something new in the never ending maze that is Hogwarts.

Draco wouldn't turn down a bath either, should he by some miracle find a way through. He heard enough whispered fantasies about the spigots, dazzling scents and iridescent bubbles to know only an utter fool would decline when opportunity presents itself. It doesn’t even need the added intrigue of access being restricted to snatch Draco’s attention. If the rumours are to be believed, it’s the most luxurious space Hogwarts has to offer. Maybe Draco would finally find something in this castle that satisfies his standards.

Thus prepared to spend the night sitting in front of a locked door, mind deep in complex magic work and all his problems forgotten, Draco thinks he can be forgiven for some befuddlement when the heavy door gives under his pro forma nudge. And he really can’t be faulted for going inside, not when the door is already open in an invitation that could not be clearer.

In fact, the one thing that Draco will take any critique on is stopping in surprise once he sees who’s already in there. Because of course it would be sodding Potter.

The only saving grace here is that Potter looks as shocked as Draco to see him.

They probably both should have expected this. After all, fate does have a way of throwing them together. But standing here, the air humid and filled with glittering bubbles, too many scents all around to name them, Draco doesn’t think of fate and how he should resent being forced back to Potter again and again.

This is the last thing Draco expected. He thought he would be safe from Potter and the haunting thoughts about that kiss, that he could postpone untangling the mess of emotions the memory causes in him. The most spectacular thing Draco was prepared to handle was someone catching him tinkering with the wards and having to come up with a cover. Instead he stares like an idiot, none of his excuses fitting and torn between joining Potter and getting out of here.

“You can stop staring now, Malfoy. I was here first and I refuse to leave.” Right, that settles it then. Draco can’t leave now, not when it would look like admitting defeat after what Potter just said. If Potter doesn’t have a problem with this … unorthodox situation, Draco doesn’t either. Any embarrassment he might feel is shoved down without acknowledgement, the heat blamed for his flush and the surprise for his hesitation. Yes, Draco is completely fine.

He closes the door and steps further into the room, closer to Potter. Potter who, to Draco’s immense satisfaction, clearly didn’t expect him to come in.

“I suppose we'll just have to share then, Potter.” It’s a miracle Draco is able to keep his composure and not let his nerves show, smoothly covering the uncertainty bubbling up in him with a teasing smirk.

Malfoy’s aren’t flustered, not even when they are about to bathe with an arch-nemesis they have confusing feelings for.

Before he can change his mind and bow to the increasingly loud voice in him demanding he get out of here as fast as possible, Draco strips himself of his clothes. There is nowhere private to change, a glaring oversight in planning that is easier to focus on than the awareness of Potter’s eyes on him. Seriously, who designed a bathroom with absolutely no space to hide? It speaks of nothing but incompetence and sloppiness and if Draco could he would —

The moment he is naked Draco flees into the relative cover the foam provides. It’s regrettably less opaque than he hoped, not actually offering much of a wall between him and Potter. At least Potter who finally realised how rude staring is and looks into the opposite direction, blushing up to his roots and shifting where he sits, collecting more foam around himself. It does nothing to obscure the view.

“Enjoying your bath, Potter?” Draco wishes something would break out of the water and swallow him whole. How did he think that was a good idea to say out loud? It’s almost excessive in how embarrassing it is, causing Draco to flush in what he knows is a most unflattering shade of red and Potter to turn back towards him, splashing widely and spluttering.

Well, at least he got Potter’s attention. Draco firmly believes that anything that gets him Potter’s attention can’t be completely horrible. He might have to rethink that one though.

“Am I — what are you even doing here?” It's a good question, Draco has to concede that much.

“I believe I have as much right to be here as you do.” Which boils down to essentially no right at all, not that it matters right now. Although — “I would like to know what you are doing here. Aren’t you supposed to be a paragon of goodness? That means no breaking and entering, not even for purple bubbles.”

“I didn’t break in! I know the password.” Potter looks triumphant for all but a second, before he frowns. Draco has the uncomfortable suspicion that he could watch Potter think all day, expressions flickering over his face and eyes lighting up in excitement or righteous indignation.

“I knew last year’s password, which probably shouldn't have worked ...” Potter trails off here, staring at Draco with wide eyes as he realises the implications of his sentence.

“Hogwarts simply let you in as well? Why even bother with wards if she makes exceptions for everyone who is passing by?” Draco doesn’t think he said anything indecent, but Potter looks at him in alarm.

“Are you telling me Hogwarts set us up?” Draco can only stare at Potter, the question asked in all seriousness and whispered as if afraid someone could overhear.

Potter’s sudden paranoia is enough to infect Draco, making him suspicious of the walls around him. He didn’t consider this, that Hogwarts could have brought them, specifically Potter and Draco, here to — for what exactly?

This suddenly feels like a very bad romance, the ones Pansy likes to read even though she doesn’t admit it. The main characters, fighting since the day they met, unexpectedly locked up together and discovering long hidden secrets in the steaming bath. Draco can almost see the cover already. They would hold each other in a passionate embrace, looking deep into each others eyes as if —

“Hello Harry, how nice and unexpected to meet you here!” There is the ghost of a girl suddenly sitting between them. Draco is too surprised to do anything but stare at her, nestling up against Potter and ignoring his horrified expression.

“Myrtle! Hi, I, I didn’t … what are you doing here, Myrtle?” Potter evidently knows the girl, though he seems as surprised as Draco by her appearance and not at all pleased, scooting away in futile attempts to create some space between them.

This is not something Draco was prepared to deal with — neither Potter, nor Myrtle and least of all the bizarre relationship they apparently have — and Draco would be lying if he said he doesn’t mind being eclipsed by her, but he is also very intrigued. Myrtle has been here for only a few seconds and has already created quite the spectacle, and Draco rather enjoys seeing Potter this flustered.

“Oh I was just passing by, terribly alone and looking for a friend … and now here you are.” Her speech is interrupted by an excessive amount of sighing and significant looks Potter is too busy scooting to see. It’s all very dramatic. Draco fully approves.

“Yes, right, here I am. Myrtle, would you mind—” She talks right over him, nodding eagerly up until that point but not interested in listening to Potter’s plea. Draco supposes that is just as well, she likely would have ignored it anyway and if Potter doesn’t learn to speak up he really can’t expect people to respect his wishes.

“Do you remember the last time we were here?” Potter evidently does remember, choking on air inhaled too fast and coughing inconveniently loud, obscuring most of what Myrtle says. Draco isn’t sure whether to be grateful or disappointed that he doesn’t hear what is sure to be a colourful retelling of their last meeting. “I was hoping we could —”

“Myrtle, have you met Draco Malfoy?” Oh, that’s him. Myrtle’s head whirls around worryingly fast, eyes pinning him in place as she inspects him. It’s a very tense few seconds in which she scrutinises him with more seriousness than Draco thought her capable of, before she giggles and waves at him. Draco isn’t entirely sure, but he thinks he passed some kind of test.

“So Draco, how do you know my Harry?” Potter sputters and curses next to her, denying the claim of possession in the most clumsy way possible. Really, Myrtle should have picked someone with grace and grandeur to fawn over, she deserves better than Potter’s foul mutterings. Though Draco has to admit, there is something oddly endearing in the way Potter tries so hard to be polite, to let her down gently.

“He cruelly rejected my offer of friendship, can you imagine? We have been sworn enemies ever since.” Draco is too busy smirking at Potter’s glare to fully listen to Myrtle’s maudlin reaction to this ‘tragedy of destined souls’, but it sounds appropriately overbearing and Potter is still charmingly embarrassed, so he doesn’t really care.

“He rejected me too, you know.” That gets Draco’s attention again, Myrtle bends towards him as far as possible while pressed against Potter, voice pitched low to a conspirator murmur. “I offered him a place to stay with me should he unfortunately die on one of his little adventures, but he stubbornly refuses to die! And he never visits, though he always promises he will.”

That is indeed very scandalous, Potter looks ready to die right here and now, and Draco can’t hold his laughter back for much longer. This entire situation is too ridiculous. Myrtle’s overbearing presentations, Potter clearly desperate to be literally anywhere else, the fact that this is likely a regular occurrence — how is anyone not supposed to laugh at how preposterous it all is?

“I told you I’m sorry for not visiting more often. I’ll try to come by soon, okay?” It’s a desperate plea that not even Potter himself believes in, and Myrtle shakes her head in disappointment.

“You always say that, you never do though.” Before Potter has a chance to defend himself against the not-quite-accusation, Myrtle dives back into the waters with a last despairing howl. Rather more sudden than Draco expected; but then, so was this entire encounter. Anything else, more normal, would have been disappointing.

Yes, Draco will simply have to make sure that this time, Potter keeps his promise to visit. Draco will drag him there himself, just to make sure.

“You can stop laughing now, you smug bastard.” Draco hadn’t even been realising it, trying to keep the laughter suppressed and apparently only succeeding in holding back the sound while his entire body shakes from it. Well, no sense in holding back anymore.

Potter doesn’t look amused as Draco breaks out laughing, pouting and scowling at him, only making Draco laugh harder.

“Oh, shut up already.” This time Draco really does stop laughing. He supposes anyone would, if they were suddenly aggressively kissed after convincing themselves that it wasn’t going to happen again and they had absolutely no problem with that.

***

A few kisses shared in secret are no excuse to be this invested. Draco doesn’t know when he started caring and he knows even less how to deal with it. This was never supposed to happen. Things weren’t meant to evolve further than their rivalry, damning enough in its intensity.

Feelings, those are what brings the real trouble.

It might have been alright if they could have continued as they were, accidentally meeting all over the castle, spending sleepless nights together that could be discarded in the light of the day. Draco could have gone on hiding from the growing realisation, could have blamed the orchestrated intimacy of the late hour and never thought about it again.

But Potter just had to get hurt.

Objectively, it’s nothing dramatic. A Quidditch accident, Potter’s had worse. Draco’s heart (foolish, obsessive as it is, unaware of the tragedy it announces with every beat) couldn’t be reasoned with though, demanding he visit Potter to make sure the git is alright. As if Draco could do that better than the highly qualified Mrs. Pomfrey, but Draco’s heart stubbornly ignored logic. It didn’t care that Potter wasn’t supposed to matter like this, that Draco might have stalked into the Hospital Wing to make fun of Potter for his fall, have his fans shoved around a little, maybe, but under no circumstances was Draco meant to become as useless as them, wanting to hold Potter's hand until he is better again.

It’s a despicable weakness Draco wasn’t even aware of, discovered too late to avoid and frightening in its size.

Not that knowing this makes it any easier to deal with. Knowing that visiting Potter with all his friends there would be a bad idea doesn’t mean some part of Draco doesn’t yearn to go, willing to accept the suspicious looks and Potter's facade dripping in false bravado telling everyone he is fine – Draco would have accepted it all as long as he could just be there.

Draco honestly doesn’t know where he found the quite remarkable amount of restraint necessary to keep from throwing away all decorum and give in to his instincts, but he somehow manages to preserve the image of unaffected arch-enemy.

But it’s late now, any reasonable person asleep, no one here except them. It’s rather cruel, how Draco came to crave what doomed him, but he will have to contemplate that later. Potter is more important than Draco’s internal crisis.

“Did you come to laugh at me?” How Draco wishes Potter were right.

It would be so easy, to pretend this is why he’s here, say something rude and insulting about Potter’s skill and watch him fume. But looking at him, pale and thin in the sterile bed, Draco can’t bring himself to say it.

Potter looks horrible, worse than a fall really should be. It fits neatly into the picture of the tragic, hurt hero, and Draco resents that he falls for it. He can’t decide whether this gets better or worse by knowing that it really isn’t an overly-dramatised tale of suffering but Harry, the boy Draco has been catching glimpses of and been meeting with.

If Draco hadn’t known, he could have taunted him with snide remarks and left, feeling smug and superior. It would have been simple, almost no thinking required, what he has done all his life.

Since Draco does know though, he doesn’t answer the question.

Potter doesn’t need to know why Draco really came, doesn’t need to hear about the unpleasant realisation of even more unpleasant feelings, should never learn how much power he holds over Draco.

So, to save himself the embarrassment of an incredibly saccharine answer, Draco silently sits down in the chair next to the bed.

Neither of them is saying anything, Draco because he can’t trust what comes out of his mouth and Potter because he’s a stubborn and childish bastard who lacks the proper decorum to make this more bearable and talk over Draco’s silence. Back in the dorm, pacing and listing the reasons to wait over and over again, Draco didn’t anticipate how awkward this visit would be.

Perhaps Draco should just leave again. After all, he gave in and came here, against all logic, to make sure Potter is alright. And Potter is; painfully frail and quiet but nonetheless fairly healthy and surely back to his obnoxiously bright behaviour tomorrow. No need to remain any longer.

Except that Draco doesn’t want to go. Everything in him rebels against the idea of leaving Potter alone, with no one here should he need something and nothing to do in what is sure to become a long night. What would Draco even do? Sleep is further from his mind than it ever was, his thoughts running with no end in sight, peace unreachable. He would just stand on the other side of the door, too weak to leave and too proud to return.

If Draco is going to stay anyway he might as well try and salvage what dignity he has left. Besides, pacing out in the corridor like a misbehaving dog sent outside is not a very appealing picture. Draco would rather not experience it first-hand.

Not that this stupid chair is a much more comfortable prospect, digging into his back and too small to move around. It’s also bound to become cold sooner rather than later; freezing and cramped up is simply more than Draco is willing to accept.

Before he has much time to think and doubt, Draco stands again, glances up at Harry reaching for him, and climbs onto the bed.

The bed is smaller than it seemed. Too small for two people, really.

Potter is very close, suddenly, their noses almost touching. It’s still all very awkward, Draco balancing over Potter because he intended to move him to the side and stopped in the middle of the movement, Potter looking up at him in confusion, the moment stretched too long.

“Hi there.” It’s probably the stupidest, most uninspired and absurd thing Potter could have said. Draco leans down to kiss his smile.

Things are better after that, novel and strange but thrilling, too. They fit together, not perfectly and not on the first try, but they make it work; Potter’s arms around Draco, clinging like he is afraid Draco will leave, Draco curled around him, hands idly tracing his spine and drawing patterns on his back, protecting Potter from the outside.

Pressed close to Potter, feeling his steady breath under his hands and on his neck, Draco has never slept this deep.

***

Potter is late. He usually is, always getting distracted or too polite to tell people to bother him some other time, but Draco really isn’t in the mood to wait for him today. He’s had a horrible day of friends teasing him over absent-minded smiles and needing to bargain for Theo’s notes because he was too distracted all day to take his own. That alone is annoying enough, but the fact that his behaviour could be interpreted as mooning over a secret boyfriend, all too easily, doesn't help matters. As if Pansy needed any more encouragement.

So yes, Draco would very much like to go to sleep now. Which he won’t be doing until Potter deigns to show up.

It’s moments like these when Draco regrets this whole arrangement. They both sleep better together, that’s undeniable by now, but sometimes he doubts if sleep really is worth all the hassle. Usually that is around the time when Potter storms through the door with some poor excuse, and, snuggled deep under the covers with the steady beat of Potter’s heart lulling him to sleep, Draco always forgets his irritation.

But Potter still isn’t here, and Draco has waited long enough. He’ll simply have to collect the git. Even if that means fishing him out of that dreadfully red common room Potter insists is comfortable. Draco swore he would never set as much as a foot in there, back when they argued over whose bed they should sleep in and Potter refused to acknowledge that Draco’s is obviously the superior choice.

Now that he thinks about it, Potter might actually be trying to goad him into sleeping in his bed. He has been sulking since he finally accepted Draco wouldn’t make any concessions on that point. Potter trying to trick him in such a blunt fashion is not exactly out of the realm of possibilities.

Well, Draco will make sure Potter regrets insulting him like that. The least he could have done is come up with something clever.

Draco does not expect to run into Potter in his own common room, clutching his now fairly useless invisibility cloak to his chest and glaring at his friends. It would make for an amusing picture, if Draco weren't the one who has to answer them all. He really hoped to avoid that. A foolish hope maybe, considering his friends are all terribly nosey and Potter is not subtle in anything he does, but Draco hoped nonetheless.

“Ah Draco, look who I caught trying to sneak in.” Theo’s smirk is far too knowing, far too pleased with himself. Theo knows, and he has no intention of allowing Draco an elegant out.

Potter whirls around at Theo’s words, his entire posture sagging in relief and smiling when he sees Draco. There goes Draco’s last shred of hope that he would somehow be able to salvage this disaster. But Potter smiling at him instead of insulting him? Not many things could possibly explain that happening.

“Trying to smuggle your boyfriend past us, are you?” Daphne is clearly pleased with herself too; judging by her mocking tone though, she hasn’t figured out how close to the truth she has come.

Unaware as she might be, Draco wishes she hadn’t phrased it like that. Potter isn’t his boyfriend, likely never will be, and Draco has come to terms with the reality of that, that Potter is only here because Draco practically forced him and he doesn't have a better option at the moment. Draco doesn’t need Daphne’s snide comment reminding him how precarious the situation is.

“Yes, he is. Anything else you would like to say?” The room falls silent. Everyone (including Draco, to his utter shame) stares at Potter in astonishment. Potter, who glares at Draco’s friends, daring them to object, standing proud and defiant and boldly proclaiming himself Draco’s boyfriend. His boyfriend – Draco likes how that sounds.

Watching him now, every bit the hero everyone expects him to be, undeniably the boy Draco got to know when the world was asleep, Draco finds he doesn’t mind Potter essentially making that decision for him.

Draco still feels stunted, somehow, unsure of the appropriate reaction but giddy excitement threatening to overwhelm him. The one thing he is sure of, is that Potter is standing far too far away for his liking. He also isn’t willing to wait around here until the inevitable teasing and interrogating begins.

“Wonderful, if that's all then, we are going to leave now.” No one dares to protest as Draco takes Potter’s hand and drags him away, Potter himself only smiling and squeezing his hand in return.

Draco doesn’t allow himself to linger on how perfectly their hands fit together, how nice simply touching Potter feels, but this is definitely something he could grow used to.

Looking back over his shoulder and immediately caught in Potter’s bright smile, Draco knows he won’t ever grow used to this, the warmth of affection and happiness flowing through him and making him smile too, impossibly light, the rest of the word fading into insignificance. But that is alright, Draco can’t think of a better future than discovering Potter’s smile every day anew.

#harry x draco #draco X harry #drarry #my writing #hp fanfic #bed sharing #enemies to lovers #drarry fic

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thewritingginger · 4 years

Text

Fluff Alphabet - Mammon

Thank you Anon fo your request you are actually my first request :3

And I’m really glad you enjoyed the one I did for Beelzebub, I hope that you like this one just as much too. ^_^

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A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

- Loves window shopping with his s/o

- Many dates have consisted of walks around the mall or different pop up shops

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

- He admires their wallet their adventurousness, likes that they are willing to go along with his wild/stupid ideas and loves him even if it fails.

- He thinks your heart is the most beautiful thing about you, everyday he wakes up still bit surprised that you had found a spot for him in your heart that will never go away.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

- Doesn’t know what to do when he sees you crying but just defaults to asking you what's wrong and cuddle you till you’re ready to talk abut it.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

- He wants a well paying job so he can afford the things he wants but also so he can support you and your future family.

- Doesn’t want you or his future kid(s) to worry about financial stability.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

- He thinks he’s the dominant one in the relationship. We’ll just leave it at that 😂

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

- Very pouty

- You kinda have to amp him back up to not be

- but will forgive even if reluctantly especially if he is in the wrong

- Might be a bit embarrassed to apologize

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

- He didn’t realize how much he needs his s/o in his life until there was one fight they had that ended up with his s/o storming out with out saying anything

- He made sure that he showed how much he loves and appreciates his s/o after that

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

- He’s quicker to share or more so boast about things to you

- Now the more embarrassing things make him more reluctant

- And if you confront him about something you'll know the truth cuz he’s not a great lier.

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

- His s/o kinda helped him become more honest, his record to stealing/ attempting to steal has decreased (not interlay well cuz ... it mammon we are talking about).

- Made him want to work harder to be the man you deserve.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

- The easiest out the brothers to get jealous

- Be one to wrap his arm around you

- Will be mouthy to the person hitting on or talking to you, but more of a bicker than fighting unless comes to that point

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

- Was questionable at first, during the first kiss b/w he and his partner he when in being confident but his true feelings of anxiety and nervousness poked its head out when he accidentally head butted his s/o coming in for the kiss.

- Once the first kiss was done his usual cocky self returned and denied the head budding ever happened.

- Is a good kisser

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

- A blushing mess

- Still trying to be cool but just ends up making him more flustered

- Mammon would try and bring it up in a casual, nonchalant way

- Just slipping it into conversation while you guys were alone

- “Heh, wouldn’t it be crazy if I loved you?” he scratches behind his neck nervously.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

- Didn't think he would ever get married, “Why would I want to give someone half my money”

- But that seemed to begin to shift when his love between him and his s/o began to grow and became a bigger part of his life.

- He proposes acting like he's doing you a favor “ Hey, so asking this is gonna seem bit redundant because the answer is pretty obvious but wanna marry me? I mean why wouldn't you, The Mammon is offering to share your life with him.”

- Even tho he said that, you knew what he was really feeling but was too embarrasses to be ask in a mushy way.

- Marriage w/ mammon is not bad but in the beginning finances and budgeting was a constant discussion but after the first year him and you have figured out a balance you can work with for the most part.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

- Nicknames you have for him: Mam, | Dough boy (dough as in money huh?),| Mr. Money Bags (used to tease him mostly, says he hates it but secretly doesn't), |

- Nicknames he has for you: Babygirl | Babe | My ‘Lucky Charm’ |Goldie 2.0, |

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

- Very tsundere

- Will say he does stuff for you cause you made a pack with him first and he doesn't trust his other brothers to do it right for you cause he’s “the best at everything.”

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

- In the beginning he would be a bit shy, playing it off as “well I just don't want to make you guys feel jealous.” and such

- Once the relationship isn't so fresh he is more relaxed in the act of PDA

- Not making out on the dance floor kinda relaxed but just Having his arm around you, kissing you a bit in a semi private area.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

- The ability to get into shit but somehow able to make it out of it relatively fine

- IDK I really couldn't think of anything 😅 what do you think?

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

- On a scale from 1-10, Mammon would be clocking in at about a high 3 low 4

- It’s not that he doesn't think to be romantic, it’s just that he doesn't really know what to do (not really his strong suit)

- When. he tries to be suave and romantic he usually will mess up and break something or fall, which in turn will make you laugh

- When you do he’ll get all blushy and pouty about it but then you kiss him and it is suddenly like it never happened OR like he meant to do that on purpose (we all know he usually doesn't)

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

- Of course he believes in them and they “will defiantly be able to achieve their goals with The Mammon on their side”

- But really, he does support them and tries to help as best he can even tho it doesn’t always turn out right, but his heart is in the right place.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

- Likes to try new things

- It keeps things interesting

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

- Mammon jokes around a lot and cracks jokes but when it really counts he does try to understand to the best of his ability

- Sometimes he doesn’t get it but he’ll just try and be there anyways.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

- His s/o really ended up being more important to him than he initially thought would be possible.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

- One time when you and mammon were basking in the afterglow of lovemaking, with your arms wrapped around his torso, his fingers gently playing with your soft locks. Your rhythmic breathing slowly rocking him to sleep, he professes “I wouldn't trade you for all the money in the world! I don't know how a guy like me got you.” Your heart swelled hearing those touching words. Gripping him tighter, you pressing a tender kiss on his chest before drifting off to sleep filled with content.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

- Very affectionate borderline clingy sometimes, loves being tangled up with you in bed talking or watching a movie

- Never in front of others, especially his brothers so he doesn't get ragged on

- In front of his brothers he just plays it cool, will put his arm around your shoulder, might kiss your cheek or neck

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

- He may not want to admit it but he is a bit needy at times

- He’ll send them messages “I’m bored, when are you coming back to entertain me?” “How much longer till you’re back?”

- Any time his brothers or others ask if he misses his s/o he just shrugs it off, but secretly not so hidden secret really misses them and cant wait to envelop them.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

- Before his you Mammon didn't really prioritize relationships, they were just there when he was bored/ needed to be around others that art his bros

- But you, you were different

- Surprisingly to him you ended up being a person he would give everything for, even his precious Goldie He would cut that bitch in half.

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Thank you for reading my work, hopefully it was at least a bit enjoyable.

To anyone that is reading this I hope you have an amazing day!

And if you have any suggestions of what I should write next just shoot me a message and ill try my best :3

💛 ~

#obey me #obey me game #shall we date obey me #shall we date #shall we date mammon #mammon #alphabet #fluff alphabet #fluff #request

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geekkatsblog · 4 years

Text

Grey's Anatomy Season 16x17 review.

What a messed up episode it was. So starting from the most messed up and going down.

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Tom Koracick He gets a section tomhimself today because honestly, his life is starting to get really complicate as was expected seeing that he's at Grey Sloan. Him and Teddy, somehow or the other I feel he's going to have the worst part of this stick. Teddy has Been in love with Owen since she even arrived at the hospital in season 6 (or 5 can't remember too clearly), but after loving someone for so long, chances are she isn't going to leave him now. She was hurt and scared because Owen could possibly have another child and he drops her like a hot potato for anyone so, with all her feelings she went to Tom and he of course slept with her because, he loves her a surprising amount. I wish that he could find the strength to tell her no, because he's going to wind up hurt and with the way everyone treats him. He's going to really be in an emotional hole after it all. As for him and Mr Billionaire. I always used to imagine scenarios like the one he proposed to Tom, but probably in a spy movie I didn't actually expect Tom to do it. He's going to end up using the money for his lawyer bills because he's not even going to have a chance if he's found out. His licenses will be gone and so will his life. He'll end up in jail along with the billionaire. Who is clearly one of the dumbest geniuses I've ever seen. All of that because he's made a mistake and could be arrested. If his plan is found out he'll be as ruined as Tom. I don't like where that case is going. I like Tom but I don't think he should risk anything for that man who clearly thinks he's the s**t and I can definitely see Tom's emotional Grey's spiral coming. I wish him the best of luck.

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Teddy I think we should check her for a tumor or a mental illness as well because I don't know what happened to her. I would have never expected Teddy to be like this. She was one of the most respectable women on Grey's. I know that she was emotional but she has been pinning for Owen for Years and years and she didn't even think to talk to him? Come on Teddy and she's using Tom, Maggie's speech was spot on she's sleeping with Tom who is madly in love with her when she knows she loves Owen, like leave Tom out of it sleep with someone else. And her reaction when she told Owen that Amelia's baby could be his and she asks him where does that leave them. He apparently took 5 seconds to long and she walked away, come on Teddy..... you just told the man that he could possibly be the father of a 3rd baby and with another woman all under the under the age of 3 and you're upset he took 5 seconds before answering, now I'm no Owen fan but Jeeze give the guy some time to process before making assumptions and what she said about Amelia, thank God for Maggie because her reasoning for being angry at Amelia was crap, especially because she did the exact same thing with Owen so the real loser here is Owen and Tom. She needs to pull it together soon because I'm sure this isn't over even though Owen isn't the Father.

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Owen Karma's a bitch I guess I almost feel sorry for him, this is the best he's been in any relationship. He's in yet another love triangle with the same woman but this time he's not the one being chased. I also want to talk about his old school way of life. Why the he'll should Teddy have to plan the wedding herself, it's like Christina not wanting to have kids all over again. She's a surgeon and a mom, both of those things are full time job. You still plan your wedding with the wedding planner except they do all of the running around for you.if he wants a planned wedding so much he should do it himself and Teddy needs to learn to say no she's going to stress herself planning a wedding the same way she did making Halloween costumes.

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Richard Yet another painful one, not only is he quitting surgery he's also pushing the people who care about him further and further away. He was so angry I almost thought that he would have had to be committed. I am praying that Webber is not leaving as well even if he's not doing surgery he should teach or something Bailey was right the hospital needs him and the show sure as he'll does as well. He wants to sell his paths pen, do you Webber but ,make sure you come back. Maybe he'll make enough money that Catherine doesn't feel like she can buy him anymore. Where the he'll Is Catherine anyway? She's doing everything behind the scenes and as usual Bailey has to take the fall.

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Link/Amelia Yay, I think we can safely take Amelia out of the Owen, Teddy, Koracick thing because her and Link are back together and even better Link is the father. While I still don't agree with how the whole thing was handled I'm just glad that they're together again and the whole Amelia, Owen thing isn't going to start again. No more children deserve to be involved in that mess. Not to mention now we get to see more daddy Link. I know that they're going to definitely have more struggles along the road I mean after all this is Grey's but I at least hope that no more of those problems will include Owen Hunt.

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Jo Didn't know which last name to call her anymore. She's in a bad mood understandably but not in her need to get committed mood, which I'm glad for. The actress in real life is pregnant and I'm just wondering how that's going to be played off. It can't be written in that wouldn't make any sense but I was wondering if they're going to make Jo take some time off. She would definitely deserve it. I'm glad that she's not spiralling too much at least not yet. She's in a funk but like she said she'll pick herself up because she knows she deserves love.

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Deluca Is talking to a shrink but doesn't really think he needs it and coming from experience that's never a good thing. I hope he realizes it soon before it ruins him and based on some spoilers I read its not seeming too likely.

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Meredith Isn't in the mood to talk about her feelings, she was hit on by a billionaire and rightfully angry at the world because the woman who had to ration her insulin because she couldn't afford was heartbreaking. I live in a country where most health care and medication is free or at a reasonable price unless you choose otherwise so I couldn't imagine how hard it is to be unable to get the health care you need so that was hard to watch. Meredith was also right to be pissed off that some billionaire just decided that he doesn't want to accept responsibility and cleared a whole hospital floor to do it. (Even if Catherine was the one to do it). She misses Alex and had yet another conversation with Bailey (this is the most I've seen them talk this whole series.) And they basically express how everyone is leaving or dying and it's lonely without them and nothing else have ever been more accurate. The amount of life and family togetherness that was in the beginning of the series definitely isn't there anymore.

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Bailey Was just there being concerned about Webber, I felt for her when Webber started freaking out and throwing stuff you could seen her internal struggle between staying with him or doing her job. I hope they aren't going to make her lose her work husband and basically the only person at Grey Sloan who would stand up for her. And she needs to stand up to Catherine that woman has been throwing her under the bus for too long.

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Jackson Broke up with his girlfriend Vic.............. I have no idea if to feel bad or happy. I don't really watch Station 19 unless if it has Bailey or is necessary to watch in order to understand what's going on in Grey's as well as the first 6 episodes of season one that I watched so I have no idea what was going on with them. I kind of picked up that she got kicked out of her home and moved into Jackson's place without telling him. But what's don't get is the reactions he was upset that she moved in and I understood because who moves into someone's place without asking but now she moves out and he's upset and for stupid reasons. Dean her new roommate/boatmate once hit on Maggie when they were together and he didn't know. She's going to help Dean raise a baby. The man's a new single father to a newborn I don't think he has time to steal someone's gf. But thank God I no longer have to hear the stupid argument again because they broke up well he broke up with her. Props to her to waiting around all day so he could do it though. Jackson is one of the characters who started off as one of my favorites but has now made his way to the bottom of the list.

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Maggie The usual cheerleader, when are they going to finally give her a plot that isn't cheering someone on, being annoying or a plot that lasts 5 seconds. It's almost like she isn't even there. Give the girl a good plot for God's sake, she shouldn't just be a cheerleader. That being said, she was spitting facts today with Teddy though and she's probably going to spill Teddy's secret because shes bad at keeping secrets thats a potential hot mess in the making.

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End notes and questions

What the Hell is Tom doing??? It's dumb and I hope someone talks some sense into him soon.

What's going to happen to Richard? Is he leaving the show as well? I hope not he's one of the only good things left.

Is Deluca going to be ok? He's got to admit he needs help soon.

And last but not least, What will happen to the hot mess that is Owen and Teddy?

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pennywaltzy · 4 years

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…And All The Men And Women Merely Players - Mycroft Holmes is not-so-subtly trying to make sure there’s a reconciliation between his youngest sibling Sherlock and his ex-wife, Molly Hooper, by forcing them to work together on a theatre project. But it isn’t all smooth sailing when his and Sherlock’s sister comes back from the States with a boyfriend who is the devil incarnate…and all hell is about to break loose.

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By the end of the day, Sherlock felt he would be rightfully justified in denying Moriarty a part in the play. He wasn’t suited for the nuance of the material, going loud and boisterous when he should be quiet and contemplative. But that was just him being himself, Sherlock supposed. Still, he looked at the faces of those whose judgment he trusted and saw none of them were impressed.

With Russell in the care of his “uncles,” and no doubt soon his “grandmother,” Sherlock invited both Mary and John to his home to talk about all the actors they had seen that day. Neither John or Mary made any qualms about Moriarty being not right for any of the parts, though two other actors, Sally Donovan and Philip Anderson, had caught their attention for roles. Unfortunately, John and Mary thought the suitable for different roles, so he hoped Molly could be a sort of tiebreaker.

“I think Phillip would do well as the morgue assistant,” Molly said once the food they had ordered arrived and they sat in the sitting room, eating out of the cartons. “It’s slightly comedic, even if it’s a smaller role, and he seems more suited to that.”

“And Sally?” Mary asked.

“Perhaps the morgue attendant, if she’ll wear men’s dress,” Molly said, tilting her head for a moment before eating some lo mein. “She seems to have a bossy look when she’s talking in the clipped tones a woman impersonating a man would have. And I don’t think it will be a stretch that a black woman would use a disguise to infiltrate the medical system. At least, disbelief should be suspended during the duration of the play because she’s a charismatic actress. I just loved her during the reveal to the detective.”

“Which reminds me,” Sherlock said. “I’d like to have them both come back and play off of you, John, as I haven’t seen anyone else so far I’d consider for the role of the detective.”

“I’d be honored, Sherlock,” John said with a grin.

“And do I get a sneak peek at any role I might get?” Mary asked with a wry grin.

“Of course, Miss Ricoletti.” Sherlock gave her a wink and Mary grinned widely.

“I know there are other women who would be portraying the ghost if we were keeping this closer to the true story,” Molly said, “but I think I can tweak the script so Mary can do a bit more in the ghostly sense.”

“So this is all really based on a true story?” John asked.

Molly nodded. “I was visiting a friend in London while I was living in New York, and we went on a ghost tour, and her grave was one of the spots. The more I looked into the story the more fascinating it became. It’s still hotly debated whether she committed suicide or whether she was killed by the group of women to put her out of her misery with her illness, but her likeness was seen along the streets of London and at the deaths of London’s finest for weeks to come after the murder of her husband and her suicide.”

“Is there going to be information on the case in the playbill?” Mary asked.

“I think it would be interesting to include,” Sherlock said. “But in the end, that’s a discussion between my brother and Molly.”

“I think we’ll include information, maybe with a picture of the woman herself and the bare-bones facts as their known with a link to find out more,” Molly said. “At least, that’s what I’d like.”

Speaking of your brother,” John said, “I was surprised he brought Greg today. Was that because they knew the bastard would be making an appearance?”

“Yes,” Sherlock said, his mood souring slightly. “I don’t know if they had known I’d be bringing Russell to the auditions, but the idea was to keep Moriarty from auditioning. Unfortunately, as they say, the best-laid plans of mice and men, etcetera, etcetera.” He poked at his beef a little harder than intended. “He made a comment that makes me feel like it’s stuck in my craw. He said Russell looked like he did as a child.”

John and Molly’s eyes widened. But it was surprisingly Mary who spoke first. “Well, I didn’t know his name was James Moriarty until today. I thought he was Jonathan Martin.”

“What?” Sherlock said, nearly dropping his food.

“I’d seen a play he was in...oh, three years ago? And I swear his name on the marquee was Jonathan Martin.”

“The bastard,” Sherlock said, shutting his eyes. He quickly set his food on the side table and stood up, reaching for his mobile in his pocket.

“What is it, Sherlock?” Molly asked.

“John Martin was the name Janine told me the bastard gave her,” he said, “Moriarty is Russell’s father.”

“Bloody hell,” John said, slumping back in his seat. “So that malignant tumor on your family is his sperm donor?”

“Unfortunately,” Sherlock said as he finished pressing the speed dial for Janine. He hoped she wasn’t celebrating a recent betrothal yet. Or perhaps hopefully she was and this would make matters simpler.

“Hello?” Janine asked.

“Have you ever met my sister’s boyfriend?” he asked.

“No. Sherlock, I haven’t even met your sister, remember?”

“I believe you have,” he said.

“Met Eurus? No, I’d remember that.”

“No. I believe you’ve met Moriarty. Also known as Jonathan Martin.”

There was an audible gasp on the other side of the connection. “What?”

“Janine, whatever you do, stay away from London for the time being. If you want Russell, I’ll have Mycroft and Gregory take him to you. But I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to be here while he’s in town, at least until Russell’s paternity has been put to rest for good.”

“Daniel proposed last night, and I said yes. He knows the truth and he loves us both anyway.”

Sherlock felt some of the tightness leave his chest. “Good. I’ll send you both a bottle of expensive champagne to celebrate once Moriarty has left.”

“You don’t think he’ll try and take Russell, do you?” Janine asked.

“No. But I think if he sees you and puts two and two together, he’ll try and extract something from myself or my family or you, and none of us need that.”

“Well, I have work that will take up my time here for a few weeks. Perhaps Daniel and I can go abroad for a bit, if you’ll keep Russell that long?”

“That might be best,” he said. “But I promise, as soon as we can, I’ll give him back to you.” He paused. “You do know my brother, his husband and John are aware of the truth, aren’t you?”

“I am now,” she said. “It’s not a well-kept secret, but as long as my family doesn’t know...”

“Understood,” Sherlock said with a nod, even though he couldn’t see her do so. “It will be alright, Janine. I promise. We’ll do what we can to get my sister and the bastard away from England until after your marriage if necessary, even if it means calling in favours in the States.”

“Thank you,” Janine said. “I’ll call to say goodnight to Russell in a few hours.”

“I’m sure he’d love to hear from his mum,” he said. “Good-bye for now.”

“Bye,” she said, hanging up.

Sherlock lowered his mobile and pinched the bridge of his nose. He realized by having the conversation in front of her, Mary knew the truth now as well, but that was a small problem if it would be a problem at all. He sat on the sofa next to Molly, who put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “Of all the potential sperm donors in the world, this had to be the worst one,” he said.

“Does it really matter if it comes out?” Mary asked. “I mean, you’re on the birth certificate, you’ve claimed him.”

“But Moriarty could have some claim as well, I’m not sure. Mycroft can have his solicitor look into specifics discreetly.” He sighed and then lowered his head. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Moriarty out of Russell’s life. Legally, monetarily, perhaps even utilizing illegal means.”

“Wait to see what the solicitor says,” John said. “That’s why your brother has one on retainer for family matters.”

“I know,” Sherlock said, looking up and turning to Molly. “I’m sorry you’ve come back into my life in the middle of this.”

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” she said, leaning over and kissing his cheek. She dropped her hand from his shoulder to take his hand in hers and he squeezed it gently, not letting go when he was done. At least he knew he had the support of family in friends in doing what was best for Russell, and that was keeping his biological father as far away as possible.

#sherlock #sherlolly #mollock #fanfic #fanfiction #sherlock holmes #molly hooper #john watson #mary morstan #janine hawkins #multipart: and all the men and women merely players

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onho8991 · 5 years

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- onho -

minho and jinki are drunk and in minho's mind this scenario went differently

onew/minho // pg // domestic fluff~ // 1.7k

Choi Minho is flummoxed. He's been so outdone, his competitive nature is eclipsed, he really does have to stare agape instead of being upset. Did he drink too much? No, surely the man beside him holding out a ring that looks grabbed out of a game dispenser is the drunk one. Minho poured him too many glasses, wanting him to, of course, have a good time because the dinner was on Minho, as was the idea to take a walk near the river afterwards.

"I think we should get married.." Lee Jinki repeats. The ring is held out between the two, both sitting at a bench beneath streetlights, barely bothered by a few passersby also drawn to a night stroll along the river just outside the large city.

"We've been together for five years.." from behind glasses Jinki squint at the sky, thinking, "..seven.. years? -- a long time," he a flashes a big, dopey grin.

Minho doesn't know how to respond. It's not that he hasn't thought of ways to spend the rest of his life with Jinki; one of them being marriage and even briefly discussed between them but always seemingly a fantasy considering social limitations. That didn't stop them from moving into an apartment together two years ago. While they both have separate bedrooms, when it's just the two of them they often end up in each other's beds sleeping cozily side by side, because sharing a bed has become natural.

But this now, in Minho's mind, it has always been himself that proposes. The foolhardy romantic of the two, in some extravagant event after weeks of the perfect planning, with an unforgettably romantic experience and no way Minho could be turned down in the end. Minho had never considered Jinki would beat him to the punch. Jinki would be lying if he tells anyone he's not a competitive person himself, but thinking in terms of competition in this regard is half of why Minho is so stumped. It's not a match. Neither has to make it to first place. There is no grand strategy Minho has to win. He's befuddled.

So Minho's first words, his reply, is "But it's not legal yet," voice a thicker slurring lisp than usual. He is drunk, among other things.

"What was that?"

Minho repeats himself, pronouncing his words more precise.

Jinki blinks. His head falls back with belly laughter.

Minho's been busy of late; the one often out of country on international flights as a flight attendant, while Jinki's work keeps him long hours behind an office desk. A dinner was supposed to be a means of trying to make up for Minho's absence lately on a new schedule after promotion to an international airlines. Though It's not really Jinki who blows up Minho's phone prying for reassurances they're doing the right thing, the risks are worth it because they love each other that much, it's always been Minho against an unchanging Jinki comfortably set in his ways. Could Minho really have missed recent political events around him? Jinki is the forgetful one, not Minho.

"Not here. We could go overseas, you know. It's legal in other places."

Of course Minho has considered that, surely, probably. "You know you are drunk, right?"

"So are you," Jinki retorts in polite manners, catching Minho in formal speech while addressing the older man like he does while drunk.

"I am not," Minho knows better but defends himself nonetheless, like their usual, comfortable shtick. His brows furrow with a slight frown. He feels more defensive than usual, and it's not because of the alcohol intake for himself, moreover a thought creeping that Jinki is too drunk to comprehend what he's asking and would feel pressured to live up to it after sobering up. Minho wouldn't be able to live with himself if he tried to pressure Jinki into something so significant; it would mean family and extended acquaintances would know the true nature of their relationship in a society not very accepting yet, and facing that some might cut them off in hurtful ways they have discussed before.

But if Jinki didn't mean it, Minho doesn't know what he would do with himself. It would hurt more than he would want to consciously acknowledge. He has matured in the last few years, discovering himself in more ways than just the realization he is attracted to men, and more startling he is only attracted to men. Minho found he uses his outgoing personality to mask his weaknesses, like the fact that he is more sensitive a person than he lets on.

But Jinki knows that. Jinki had uncovered it before Minho had faced it himself personally because Minho is a stubborn soul. If Jinki doesn't really mean what he's saying right now, how could Minho ever be able to propose himself after that. He tries to give Jinki room to back out still, say it's all just a gag, before it's too late. Self-preservation.

"..that's a toy.." Minho points at the ring. The young man is in fact Minho's senior, but here he is, a fake ring with an anything-but-romantic proposal like one of his common jokes. Or slightly less common: teasing specifically of Minho.

"Oh shoot!" Jinki sits upright, expression suddenly distressed. "It is?"

It fools Minho for a moment, chest clenched with concern, then he understands the joke being had. He cracks a small grin, able to be swayed by Jinki's charm. Since the day they met when they were both younger and more foolish, Minho has been captivated by it. Minho could almost worship it, and by then he knew he had fallen truly head-over-heels for someone.

"..you finally smiled," Jinki says, drunken eyes crinkled with delight behind his round glasses. "I love how you smile, I love the way you talk and laugh," he takes a deep breath, continuing. "..I love how your confidence gives me my own. I love how you make me feel like the only person on earth. You became my friend, you have always been so nice. If it weren't for you, I don't know what I would be. That's why.." Jinki's rambling trails off, his body tensed up as his head drops, like more spilled out than intended because of holding back something for too long.

Minho stares, dumbstruck as he absorbs what has been said to him. Jinki isn't one to express himself in this way often. Usually drunk when he does. He certainly must be drunk. Nonetheless, butterflies overtake Minho, leaving him unable to interject at this point. He really hopes Jinki knows what he's doing here. The point of no return is upon him.

"I swear I'm not really that drunk." Jinki looks up with a clearer gaze and smile absent as he speaks with a serious, yet slightly timid voice. "I know what I'm doing. I'm just.. not good at this stuff, like you," he sighs, ".. but you know me better than anyone, right?"

The two have found they do make up for each others shortcomings.

Minho hides a bit of a laugh, but it's a sobering shot through the heart finding Jinki really is being sincere, that this is him really trying and not some cruel joke at Minho's expense or a half-hazzard plan. Jinki likes jokes, uses it to disguise some awkward nature in himself, but he isn't stupid. He's more thoughtful than he's given credit for by his peers. It's almost as if a privilege Minho knows that side of Jinki.

"I didn't expect you to beat me to this," Minho gestures. "I had it planned out differently." The years of friendship to lovers, it all leading to such an important moment hasn't been like the movies. Though nothing about Minho's romantic life is what one would see in the cinema, so why did he spend so much time thinking it would be in the end? "And there were lots of flowers and.. a real ring."

Jinki looks around, spotting a shrub of flowers among a patch of landscaping, then brows arch as he whips his head back around to face Minho, like a jolt of shock struck him. "You've really been thinking about us like that?"

"I have," Minho's glazed eyes from drink mismatch his confident posture, "but more romantically."

It falls quite between the two, but a simple look leaves both able to read each other, even when flushed with dizzying alcohol. Jinki doesn't have to ask again, because the answer to his proposal is obvious now. But the older fumbles in some grass near the bench, a fist full of flowers, possibly weeds, yanked up before making his way to one knee in front of Minho's wide-eyed stare. Still in a state of disbelief and butterflies, Minho is unable to look anywhere but down at Jinki, the overhead light catching his glasses, that cute big grin on his face, this man holding out a ring and flowers towards him.

"Marry me, bitch."

Minho slumps in a fit of goofy laughter and squeaking giggles, and he offers his hand as Jinki takes it to slide the ill-fitting ring on a pinky. Minho laughs even more, wearing some child's ring no less. Jinki also caught up in the laughter mumbles about ring band measurements, how he couldn't even fit it on his own stubby pinky.

"Let's get married." Minho kisses the top of Jinki's head, lingering a moment in that familiar scent he can't get enough of, then pulls the man's comforting warmth into an adoring embrace.

Minho already knew who he wanted to spend the rest of his days with some time ago, as if it just dawned on him in one single day back then, leaving him in that similar daze to the time he realized he was actually in love with someone. He might have been beaten to the punch in this instance, but that only reaffirms he's made the right choice in life; they're compatible. He wants to be with this perfectly imperfect man.

No doubt as long as they have each other and are doing this together, they will be capable of doing anything and everything.

The risk is worth the reward, or better put: Minho doesn't think about anyone around them while they're beneath dim streetlights. He presses a kiss to Jinki's smiling lips, surprising the older with a bold display of public affection.

It doesn't matter if anyone is watching.

"I love you."

#fic #onho #shinee #minew #onew #minho #onho: fic #onho: fluff

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guilermina · 4 years

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So I’m somewhat new to the fandom, and haven’t written in years. Also, this is neither good nor original....I started writing it shortly after the series ended then found out there were better writers out there.

A/N: Jaime and Brienne thoughts born of dissatisfaction with what the writers gave us. After reading several other fanfics I see I’m not the only one to feel the same way, so possibly this won’t be terribly original. Plus I haven’t written anything in 20 years. As always GoT and the characters aren’t mine, I’m just playing with them.

Brienne

There was no shame in retreat under certain circumstances, she thought feverishly. Brienne of Tarth blushed furiously as she beat a hasty exit from the too-hot and echoing feast hall. And surely no shame in being a virgin, she mused angrily. Quite the contrary in fact- for an unmarried noblewoman of her status to be otherwise would be a greater sin by far. What was mortifying was that that damned imp Tyrion considered her so much “one of the lads” that he felt free to comment on the subject of her proposed maidenhood in front of the entire population of Winterfell. And he was there to hear it. Brienne felt her face heating even more at the memory of Jaime Lannister’s expression when Tyrion made his announcement to the whole damned table. Gritting her teeth, she continued her determined march down the darkened corridor towards her chambers, hearing the sound of merriment fading with the torchlight. It wasn’t like it should be a surprise to anyone. After all, he himself had made the very same observation so many years ago when he had been her prisoner. Of course at the time he had been trying to provoke her, as cagey as a trapped lion using any weapon in his arsenal to shake her so he could catch her off her guard. And he had very nearly succeeded a few times. The Lannister brothers were really quite an observant pair, it occurred to her. This time he at least had the decency to look abashed at his brothers comment, and was chivalrous enough to try to deflect the line of questioning when Tyrion refused to drop it. What had happened after, her awkward attempt to flee, Tormund’s arrival to top off an already excruciating couple of seconds had passed in a blur. It was a relief that she now found herself blessedly alone with her humiliation in the dark hallway.

Brienne finally reached her chamber and shut the door firmly behind her, resting her back against it as she tried to steady her breathing and calm her rattled sensibilities. The room was warm and glowing from the fire she kept constantly lit, and the howl of the cold northern wind outside her windows was a reminder of all the darkness she had come through safely over the last 48hours. Quietly, she lit her candles and removed her sword belt, boots, and the outer layers of her clothing. Relaxing finally, Brienne allowed herself an uncommon moment of self pity. After the three failed engagements arranged by her long- suffering father, and the hopelessly unrequited love she had born for Renly Baratheon, she had resigned herself to never experiencing physical love. And yet here she was a young woman still, and tonight it seemed a lonely fate that she could so easily have died without ever knowing another’s touch.

It was a fact that she had had opportunities in the past. Observant Jaime had been correct in that there were boys out there who liked a challenge. Yes, two or three had tried with her, maybe a few more than two or three, truth be told. And yes, damn him, he had seen with unerring clarity into her innermost heart that there remained a part of her that longed to feel like a woman, a lady, someone to be cherished and adored. Maybe even to be dominated, she darkly admitted to herself, if only for a moment. How did he do that, see through her so very clearly? Had she wanted to she could have lain with some random someone, just to know what it felt like. But to be seen by her first lover only as a challenge or a novelty wasn’t enough to tempt her.

Brienne sighed and threw more wood on the fire. No doubt the celebration continued without her in the feast hall; what had started out a solemn tribute to the fallen souls who’s ashes were still being carried away by the freezing wind had quickly turned into a riotous celebration of those living who remained. Brienne could feel as the heaviness of the occasion lifted; people feasted and drank to excess; two by two couples stole away from the gathering to celebrate being alive in private. She herself had become mellow with more wine than she was accustomed to, lulled into contentment by the camaraderie of those who surrounded her. There was Pod faithfully at her side, and then there was them, the two Lannister brothers sitting across from her, as dissimilar in looks as it was possible for brothers to be. And yet both were clever and lively conversationalists and she had found herself smiling and drinking more than she had in the last year. Tyrion had started the game, which to begin with she quite enjoyed. Tyrion plied her with more and more wine, but when she had covered her goblet to stop him pouring it was Jaime who took her hand in his warm and calloused left to move it aside. Her head spun, and she realized it wasn’t wine alone that was making her flush.

She pictured him now in her minds eye, so ridiculously handsome it made her head hurt- even his one remaining hand was beautiful. Indeed, age and scruffiness had only improved him. It wasn’t fair for a man to be so blessed in his looks, when she, a woman, was left feeling huge and graceless and awkward.

His behavior towards her since arriving in Winterfell had been confusing also, to say the least. She had grown accustomed to Tormund following her about like a lost direwolf pup, but it seemed strange to her that now she couldn’t seem to turn around without tripping over Jaime Lannister. He was nice to her in a way he had never been before, gentlemanly and respectful as a Knight should be to a lady, rather than as one soldier to another. And yet on the eve before the battle it had been he who had knighted her, looking past her gruff indifferent denial of even wanting to be a knight and seeing accurately what it was she truly longed for. The respect and acknowledgement of her peers felt good, but that it was he who formalized her well-earned recognition felt like something more. How did he do that? she wondered again. And why did he bother?

The lonely howl of the wind outside drew her back to the present. She wouldn’t think on it anymore, she decided. One hopelessly unrequited love in her past already was enough pain for a lifetime. Like Renly, Jaime Lannister didn’t love her or want her, he was just being kind. That he wasn’t a man especially noted for kindness was something she wouldn’t wonder about either. Perhaps he was ill, then? Brienne shrugged mentally. Whatever the case may be, she would force it out of mind just as she did so many other things.

Someone was knocking on her door, Brienne realized with a start, two knocks, then three more. Dear Gods, she thought, was she going to have to thrash that damned wilding before this night was over? Assuming her most thunderous expression, she strode to the door and yanked it open, thoroughly prepared to toss the persistent Tormund on his ass right there in the hallway. She wasn’t prepared at all for what she found: Jaime Lannister standing rather unsteadily on her threshold, wine flagon and goblets in hand. Taking her glowering countenance in with a glance, he simply barged past her into her room. “You didn’t drink.” was the only comment he offered as greeting.

Jaime

Really, truly, he could have kicked Tyrion right in the ass the moment the words left his mouth. Jaime watched as Brienne hurriedly fled the celebration, obvious discomfort written plainly on her face. What was his bother thinking, commenting on a noblewoman’s virginity as though she were some grubby squire who needed nothing more than a trip to the local brothel to dispose of it? Surely

he wasn’t that drunk? And then, to make matters worse, the entirely besotted Tormund had arrived on the scene, seemingly intent on following the woman in hopes of pressing his suit. That just wasn’t happening tonight, Jaime decided as he stood abruptly to block the wildings path. Before he considered his motives too closely, it was he who followed the warrior woman out of the hall.

She’d been relaxed and happy in a way he’d rarely seen her over the years. Jaime had realized he thoroughly enjoyed her company, the warmth of her rare laugh and the growing flush on her pale skin made her eyes seem bluer in the torchlight. He’d found himself charmed and lulled into a contentment he hadn’t felt in years, if ever. He hadn’t even minded when his brother proposed playing the infamous drinking game. She’d seemed to enjoy it enough at first, and so had he, right up until the point she’d inadvertently stumbled upon a sore spot with Tyrion, the subject of his prior marriage. Of course she couldn’t have guessed how twisted the tale really was. But the second Tyrion got his chance, he’d turned the tables by announcing the state of her maidenhead to everyone within earshot . Brienne’s smile had faded and he watched as she shut down instantly.

Jaime felt her mortification just as keenly as if it were his own -he had both seen and surmised the cruel mockery and disparaging comments the warrior woman had been exposed to for years. And he’d correctly guessed she’d had an awful childhood. To his shame he recalled how cruelly he had belittled her in the first days of their association, though he’d done it mostly to to rile her at the time. After all, she had been leading him all over the countryside like a dog on a leash at the time - one couldn’t expect him to be on his best behavior under those circumstances, could they? Cringing inwardly, he prayed she had forgiven him by now. And yet he’d known his comments hurt, he just hadn’t anticipated he’d ever be fond enough of her to care. Some experiences left scars on the inside where they didn’t show, he mused. It was only natural that she would assume Tyrion was mocking her.

And Brienne of Tarth carried her scars better than most, he realized. He told himself he’d followed her tonight to head off Tormund, who seemed determined to make her his own. But it wasn’t as though she needed his protection, he knew she could have the grubby wilding flat on his back in the dust if she chose to, in whatever capacity she chose to, for that matter.

That thought made him wince. It wasn’t possible was it that she fancied him a bit? Jaime supposed the large man could be perceived as attractive, if smelly, disheveled and ginger was what happened to get ones juices flowing. Jaime wrinkled his nose in disgust as he recalled she hadn’t drunk her wine before leaving the party. Perhaps that really was her response to Tyrion’s query? Maybe the disgusting wilding had already got inside her? Surely not! An unfamiliar knot of jealousy settled uncomfortably in his gut.

Jaime Lannister grimaced and shuffled to a halt in the darkened corridor outside the feast hall, realizing suddenly that he had no idea whatsoever what the hell it was he was doing. He knew in his heart she’d not let Tormund anywhere near her, that she had never let anyone near her. Her stoic acceptance of her own undesirability had stuck with him over the years. But it wasn’t strictly accurate, he admitted to himself, remembering his surprising and unwelcome response to her nakedness in the bath at Harrenhall those years before.

He could see the humor in the memory now though at the time he’d been at his very lowest. There he was, sick as a dog and weak with fever and shock when he’d made one clever comment too many for her to bear, and he’d nearly ended his days as the first Lannister to die in a bathtub while being thrashed by a large, angry, wet warrior woman. She’d towered above him threateningly, too furious for modesty and he’d realized to his discomfort that there was nothing masculine about her nude body, strong and tall and athletic though she was. The unexpected jolt of desire had been unsettling and intense. What was he thinking?

Distracted from his reverie by the sound of footsteps approaching, he realized a serving wench was coming towards him down the corridor in the direction of the feast hall, heavy tray laden with wine and goblets. On a whim, he brought his most devastating smile to bear on the unsuspecting girl, snatching two goblets and a decanter off her tray. The maid gave a little yelp of protest, which quickly gave way to flustered acceptance and a shy smile. He nodded to her courteously as he started back down the the hallway after Brienne, feeling just a tad more confident in his course of action.

Before he knew it he found himself outside her chamber. Doubt set in again: what could he say to her?

He wasn’t drunk, after all Lannister’s drank wine practically from the cradle, and it would take more than he had drunk tonight to genuinely incapacitate him. But he supposed the affectation of drunkenness could go far to save his dignity if things went horribly wrong for him in the next few moments. Knocking on her door, the sudden memory of leaping into the bear pit at Harrenhal flashed before his eyes.

The door jerked open and there she stood, an ominous expression on her face which quickly gave way to confusion at seeing him. He wobbled on his feet unsteadily a bit as he looked up into her deep blue eyes, swallowing hard. “You didn’t drink.” He stated, stupidly it seemed to him at that moment. Barging past her into the room before she could question him, he deposited the wine and goblets on the nearest flat surface he could ascertain, pouring the wine messily.

“I drank.”

“In the game. This is Dornish.” He passed her a filled goblet. Really he should have thought the conversation part of this scenario out better beforehand. He looked at her standing awkwardly in the glow of the fireplace, that familiar mulish expression settling on her features. Equal parts anxiety and desire clenched his heart at the sight.

Brienne took a drink, the uncertainty and confusion deepening in her eyes. “This is not a game.” She stated. “This is only drinking.”

“Suit yourself.”

It was hotter in her room than a dragons bunghole, he realized. “You certainly keep it warm enough in here!” He turned away from her, sweat breaking on his brow as he awkwardly pulled off his leather jerkin, tossing it on her bed. He turned back in time to see her looking at him intently, dismay and dawning comprehension showing in her expression. When she caught his eyes on her she looked down quickly and wiped sweaty palms on her pant legs. He swallowed the sudden lump that appeared in his throat at the sight.

She was saying something about the North and the importance of keeping a fire lit. The words didn’t matter, they were just a shield they both kept up between them to avoid the truth of the situation. He said something back to her about hating the North, biting enough that she told him to piss off.

“It grows on you.” She said softly, looking at him.

Jaime and Brienne

So I’m as bad as Tyrion and wanted all the juicy details. I’ll give you a fair warning that the rating of this story will be going up. I know I’m probably not following events as they unfolded in the show exactly, I’m going by memory and my memory isn’t so good anymore. Also, reviews are always appreciated, even if they’re bad. Thanks for reading!

It was as though they’d never been alone together before, Brienne thought as she watched an agitated- seeming Jaime move about her room, spilling wine and complaining about the heat. Hell, they’d been naked together in the same bathtub, and still there hadn’t been the level of tension that was currently radiating off of him tonight, growing stronger by the second. Something was different, and both could feel the shift of the energy in the room. It seemed to hang in the space between them, a question begging to be answered, and yet unspoken. Brienne thought back to a warning her father had made years ago when he was teaching her to fight, about being wary of men with their blood up after a battle. Is that what was happening here, she wondered, bewildered. She didn’t think so. But why was he here?

“I don’t want things growing on me.” He muttered, turning away from her. She watched as he filled his goblet with yet more wine, and it occurred to her that she had never seen him drunk before. Maybe that was his issue? But when he turned back to her his eyes were intense, locked on her face clear and sharp, and there was an unusual edge to his voice. “And speaking of things growing on you, how about Tormund Giantsbane? Has he grown on you?” Was that really jealousy she was hearing, or had she taken leave of her senses? “He was quite sad when you left.”

Jaime watched as she scoffed a bit, rolling her eyes and leaving his question unanswered. The warm crackle of the fire within the room blended with the lonely howl of the wind outside, filling the silence between them before she spoke again.

“You sound quite jealous.”

“I do, don’t I.” He admitted.

He looked at her standing there so still, her blue eyes filled with fear and questioning. Unable to hold her gaze, he spun away from her, exclaiming. “It’s bloody hot in here!” He pulled and bit at the laces of his shirt, trying to loosen them. Brienne looked away, then back at him. Away and back before striding abruptly towards him.

“Oh move aside!” For a fraction of a second he thought she was about to thrash him, and he’d end this night flat on his ass on the other side of her door. Instead she roughly smacked his hand away from the laces and began matter of factly unlacing them herself. Stirred by her sudden closeness, he reached up and pulled at the laces of her shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking your shirt off.”

A heavy pause, and then she pushed his hand away. He watched, mesmerized, as she nimbly undid the laces herself. He was entranced by the motion of her hands, noting that strong as they were, they were long-fingered and graceful, a woman’s hands.

She continued in an almost business like manner, pulling his shirt out of his trousers and lifting it over his head. Then she shrugged off her own shirt, dropping it in the floor at their feet.

His eyes dropped, raking her naked torso, feeling undeniable need building.

“I’ve never slept with a Knight before.” He admitted, his voice low and rasping.

“I’ve never slept with anyone before.” She answered softly.

“Then you have to drink.”

The mulish expression was back. “I told you-“ she began before he finally dared to end the conversation with his kiss.

Brienne’s heart beat painfully, pounding against her rib cage as his mouth closed abruptly on her own. His lips were hard and demanding, leaving her no question what it was he wanted of her. She felt a flash of panic, followed swiftly by elation. She couldn’t deny she wanted him, she’d made her decision the second she’d reached for his laces. She felt his warm and calloused left hand caress her cheek, while the cold metal of his right pressed against her back as he pulled her nearer. She shivered against him, despite the heat, trembling with reaction. Gasping, he broke the kiss; as he stared into her eyes she saw the same panic and elation reflected back at her.

He lowered his gaze from hers, chuckling to himself as he did so. “I’m nervous as a boy.” He admitted quietly.

Something very like tenderness flooded her heart at the admission.

Brienne

Brienne swallowed, watching his face closely, loving the way the light played on his features, his high cheekbones, his long nose, leaving him gilded. She wondered what it was he saw looking back at him, knowing she was no match for his beauty. Green eyes were scanning her face, searching for clues, looking for doubt or fear or refusal. Discerning none of these, he pulled her back against him, kissing her again, this time more softly. His left hand brushed her cheek, skimming lightly down the column of her throat, her shoulder, her breast, down her body to her hip. Gripping it, he pulled her against him firmly. She inhaled shakily as she felt his hardness pressing against her, undeniable evidence of his need. Panic flared again, but she pushed through it, knowing she wanted this, more than anything else at this moment, whatever it may be or however long it may last. Hesitant at first, growing bolder, she touched him, stroking the hard planes of his chest, his shoulders, his back. He groaned deep in his throat, pushing her, steering her backwards in the direction of her bed. Sliding her hands down his body, she fumbled shakily with the laces of his pants.

Her hands were so unsteady that she’d made little progress on his lacing by the time she felt the back of her legs touch the side of the bed. Laughing now, he pulled away just enough to give her a shove, drawing a little yelp of surprise from her as she fell gracelessly back on the fur coverlet. She blinked up at him, standing above her, and watched as he finished what she’d started with the laces, allowing the pants to slide down his legs. Feeling suddenly, painfully shy, she squeezed her eyes closed and heard him laugh again.

“Bashful now are we?” He observed. “It’s not like you haven’t seen it before.”

“Not like that.” She whispered, eyes still firmly closed.

“No, not like this.” The mattress gave as he knelt above her and she felt his hand at the fastenings of her own pants. Knowing he’d require help with this; she fought to regain the business-like composure of earlier. Arching her back, she loosed the lacing and slid the pants down over her hips, while he helped her pull them down her long legs and over her feet.

He was staring down at her, an unreadable expression in his eyes as they roamed the length of her nude body. She felt a hot flush creeping over her bare skin. “Don’t look at me like that!” She hissed self consciously.

“Like what.”

“I know I’m not beautiful.”

He leaned over her, meeting her eyes. “What’s beauty? He asked. “I think I’ll decide what I find beautiful.”

The mattress creaked as he moved, shifting his body down over hers. The sensation of his warm skin against hers, his weight bearing down on her was entirely intoxicating , and she wrapped her arms around him as he kissed her again.

It was strange how quickly a situation could flip entirely to the unexpected, Brienne mused; she’d seen it in battles countless times, and so it was in life also. Her evening had started with the too-familiar sense of unease with herself and a fear of being mocked that had followed her throughout her entire life, only to alter to the indescribable bliss of complete acceptance in her most vulnerable state. That Jaime was the one to give her this meant more to her than she wanted to think about at the moment. Instead she gave herself up to her feelings and the instinctual reactions she had only used before when fighting.

His mouth left hers as he kissed her neck, her breasts; she could feel his stubbly beard abrading the tender skin there, the small pain of it intensifying her pleasure to near unbearable. As he shifted down to kiss her stomach, she dared to sink her fingers into his thick hair, Lannister gold turning silver. A rush of panic again as he moved lower, supporting himself on his maimed right arm as he pushed her thighs apart. Painfully self- conscious again, she struggled up to her elbows to look at him. “What are you doing?”

He lifted his head, staring up the length of her body, his expression guileless as he regarded her. “I suggest you lay back and find out.”

Brienne realized what he was about, having certainly heard of the practice, but her knowledge of sex was so rudimentary she had no idea of what to think or expect. “Can’t you just, y’know, do it the normal way?” She suggested.

He was laughing at her now, but his eyes on hers were warm. “It will hurt for you the first time.” He explained. She knew this of course, but hadn’t considered it. “It won’t hurt me.” He continued. “It will feel wonderful, in fact. I’m trying to make this good for both of us.” Still reading doubt and fear in her eyes, he added softly, “Trust me, please.”

Brienne nodded mutely, not trusting her voice. She lay back, trying to will her body into some state of relaxation. Again he shifted himself downward, pushing her long legs apart and settling in between them. She pressed her eyes tightly closed as she felt his fingers touch her in that most intimate and unspeakable of places, parting her and then stoking her in a way that sent shockwaves throughout her body. She gasped and nearly came off the mattress as he replaced his fingers with his mouth, hot tongue driving a wave of liquid fire through her core. Unable to stop herself, she cried out, speaking his name again and again until the wave peaked and then subsided. Slowly returning to herself , she registered her own pounding heartbeat and the raggedness of her breathing first, dawning to awareness of him, resting his head tenderly against her thigh. “See, I told you.” He said. “You should always trust me about these things.” Brienne could only nod, too stunned to form words.

He moved abruptly, raising his body to lay over her again. He’d been so steady and patient before that she’d nearly forgotten the power of his own need, but now she could feel his trembling urgency as he kissed her lips roughly . Clearly he was struggling with self control as his mouth moved to her breasts; taking her nipple briefly between his teeth he suckled her, first one breast and then the other. Brienne could feel the heat building inside her again as he nudged her thighs further apart with his knee and pressed the hard length of himself against her. He raised his head to meet her eyes as he began to press into her slowly. Unable to stop herself, Brienne cried out, the sting of sudden pain, euphoria and fear too much to bear.

“Am I hurting you?” He rasped out.

“Yes.” Her voice sounded strange and choked, and she realized tears were flowing from her wide eyes.

She felt him pull back, but she put her arms around his back and pulled him against her. “Don’t stop!” She cried. “Don’t stop.” She gasped again as he drove himself fully inside her.

Clearly he couldn’t hold himself back anymore ; Brienne’s fingers clutched his shoulders in a way that had to be painful as he thrust into her again and again. It hurt, just as he’d warned her, but the pain itself was blissful, as was the knowledge that it was he who was claiming this first from her, filling a part of her that until now had been empty. She felt the ache subsiding, and she began to relish the strength of his body moving against her, within her; his sweat and his ragged breath and his heart pounding with her own. A near unbearable tension was building inside her again, and it was with a sense of wonder that she felt it build and build and then shatter. She knew it was the same for him as his body on hers abruptly tensed; he rasped out her name as he thrust into her a final time before spending himself inside her.

Brienne could feel her virgins blood mixed with his seed slick upon her thighs. Slowly, he shifted his weight off her and to the side; lifting his head he looked into her eyes, but neither could seem to find words. Instead he brushed her cheek lightly with his lips, letting his head drop to rest against her shoulder. They lay together unmoving, unwilling and unable to separate; the fire crackled in its grate and the wind howled outside as they drifted off to sleep.

Jaime

The fire Brienne had tended so diligently burned low now, neglected, and all the sounds of the sleeping northern keep had gone still around them. Jaime Lannister looked down at the fair-haired woman who lay peacefully in his arms, a silly smile on his lips. Waking again in the night, they’d come together a second time with far less restraint than the first. Jaime’s smile grew a bit wider at the memory. She was a quick learner, his Brienne, and once shyness had given way to enthusiasm they’d quite exhausted each other. An eye-opening experience, he mused, to be with someone who was more than a match for him physically. She would regret it come morning, but meanwhile…

He loved her strength, he realized; loved the the combination of fortitude and vulnerability he saw shining in Brienne’s dark blue eyes as she looked up at him from the furs and blankets that lay jumbled around them. The firelight danced golden on her smooth pale skin, drawing his eyes and fingertips like a magnet. Her body entangled with his was muscular, powerful, scarred, yes, but in every way a woman’s body; he found her unconventional beauty stirred him almost unbearably. Jaime hadn’t realized he could feel this way for anyone else, so long had he been consumed by the poisonous addiction that was Cersei…he stopped that thought in its tracks, as if naming her would summon her into the room like an malevolent spirit. Brienne was so clean, so pure in comparison, he could hardly believe that she had permitted him to be the first man to lie with her, to touch her so, and that she was looking at him now she was as though he were somehow worthy.

“We need to sleep for real this time.” Brienne was saying drowsily, pulling him from his reverie. “There’s still so much to do, and I have practice with Pod at first light.”

First light was no more than an hour away at best; Jaime laughed. “You’re daft if you think anyone in this castle will be stirring before midday, Podrick included.” He looked at her meaningfully, his voice low and teasing. “Give the poor lad a day off and practice with me instead.” He watched in amusement as her face flushed pink as a rose and she attempted to stifle a girlish laugh.

“He will be expecting me.” She persisted, trying to regain her dour composure.

Jaime yawned. “Pod can bugger off, Tormund can bugger off…the whole world can bugger off for one day at least.” He smiled at her devilishly. “And trust me when I tell you you won’t feel like walking tomorrow, never mind wearing armor and playing with swords.”

She slapped at him playfully, looking scandalized. “You’re full of yourself, aren’t you?!”

“I think you’ve got it confused, ser.” He captured the hand she’d lifted, drawing it to his lips he kissed her palm. “Perhaps another demonstration is in order.”

She pushed him away. “God’s no! Go to sleep!” Equal parts amusement and weariness were in her eyes.

“Now you’ve hurt my feelings.” She smiled sleepily in response, but her eyes were closing of their own accord. The last two days were catching up fast. “Sleep then.” He said gently. “You’ve earned it. But I’m warning you if Pod knocks on this door before noon I’m chucking him over the battlements.”

Brienne’s response was muffled as she turned on her side away from him. Jaime stared at the back of her blond head for a long moment before rolling to his back to gaze up at the ceiling. The candles she’d lit hours earlier had burned into dripping pools of wax in their sconces, and the last of the firelight danced drunkenly as shadow and reflection around the room. The ancient keep brooded silently through the black winter night, and Jaime was left alone now with the ghosts of his old shames. He would rather die than hurt this woman, he realized; but what else could a man as corrupt as he offer her?

The inevitable specter of his twin came to him now: Cersei, his reflection in the mirror, identical and opposite. His feelings for her had been the guiding force for every decision he’d ever made in his life, and oh, what it had brought him: Three children he couldn’t claim and could barely know, all of whom had passed to the grave before him. The sacrifice of his birthright and inheritance. A legion of evil deeds done in the name of an intoxicating poison he thought to be love. Dishonor. And through it all he had never been a man to pursue idle dalliances; he had always given himself faithfully and with his whole heart. A tainted heart and a perverse love it had been with Cersei ; what he felt for Brienne was so pure and cleansing in stark contrast. But it came too late, he feared. Where could it lead them both but heartbreak?

He should get some sleep as well, he thought, trying to dismiss his anxiety . He felt as bone weary as could ever recall feeling, but his mind continued to spin, chasing sleep just out of reach. There was nothing he could find to regret in what had passed between Brienne and himself this night. This was what love was, he realized with a growing sense of wonder. It didn’t hurt, it didn’t shame or contro. It didn’t need to hide or lie. He was born anew in her deep blue eyes, reforged better and stronger than before. He looked to where Brienne slept peacefully next to him and felt his heart overflow. Sighing quietly into the darkness of the room, he turned on his side and fit himself against Brienne’s back. She murmured something, her voice slurred and muffled against her pillow. He thought she might have said his name. He’d loved to hear his name on her lips since the first time she’d uttered it, back in Harrenhal. A man with more emotional awareness of himself might have understood the significance. How he’d wished he had understood his feelings for her sooner, or that fate had let them meet when they were both younger. How different his life could have been, if he’d ever felt there was an alternative for him.

Tomorrow the tasks of rebuilding Winterfell and planning for the southern invasion ahead would commence, but where his place belonged in this he was unsure of. He had kept his vow to come north and fight for the living and survived to tell the tale. He had rather expected to die, he realized. Now what?

Brienne

Jaime

Before he knew it he found himself outside her chamber. Doubt set in again: what could he say to her?

“I drank.”

Brienne took a drink, the uncertainty and confusion deepening in her eyes. “This is not a game.” She stated. “This is only drinking.”

“Suit yourself.”

“It grows on you.” She said softly, looking at him.

Jaime and Brienne

“You sound quite jealous.”

“I do, don’t I.” He admitted.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking your shirt off.”

She continued in an almost business like manner, pulling his shirt out of his trousers and lifting it over his head. Then she shrugged off her own shirt, dropping it in the floor at their feet.

His eyes dropped, raking her naked torso, feeling undeniable need building.

“I’ve never slept with a Knight before.” He admitted, his voice low and rasping.

“I’ve never slept with anyone before.” She answered softly.

“Then you have to drink.”

The mulish expression was back. “I told you-“ she began before he finally dared to end the conversation with his kiss.

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