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rowanaelinn · 3 years

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Safe Place

rowaelin month day four : librairies @rowaelinscourt

warning: not descriptive nsfw content

Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius could be described as a calm male. Out of all his companions, he probably was the one with the most self-control and he thanked the Gods for it every time one of his friends said something stupid.

However, it didn’t apply when his wife was concerned. Around Aelin, Rowan’s self-control seemed to vanish. She had the ability to get him angry, to become a blushing mess or a soft idiot with just one sentence. There was no control around his mate and it was one of the reasons he loved her.

But when he woke up in the middle of the night to an empty bed, Rowan lost the little human part he had in himself. Rowan lost all control the moment he smelled a lingering scent of fear. Her fear.

Has she been taken again?

Has it all been a dream? Had he not got her back?

In a second, Rowan was standing, knives at the ready around his waist. He would fight to get her back if he had to. Not having Aelin by his side made him feel like all the air in the world was gone.

Rowan wanted to yell at himself for falling asleep, he should have protected her.

In all the times her Fireheart was in danger, Rowan was never there to protect her. What a poor excuse of a husband and mate he was. He still didn't know why his queen was keeping him and hadn't already thrown him out. He was useless. Completely useless.

He kept complaining because of the royal duties, kept saying he liked being a prince just fine because it didn’t bring him any mess. His only role as King Consort, mate, and husband was to protect Aelin and he had shown the world how bad he was at it. Multiple times.

She wasn’t okay, he could feel her sadness from her side of the bond. Rowan felt like a prick for being relieved at the feeling of her emotions just because it meant she was still alive and not in a damn iron coffin that blocked every chance for them to communicate.

First, he came out of the royal apartments, following Aelin’s faint scent. She had become so damn good at hiding herself with her magic, a trick Fenrys taught all of them. It was a useful skill to have, Rowan was relieved most of the time no one could track her with her scent but he wasn’t tonight. Not when he needed to see her.

Thankfully with Aelin’s condition lately, her scent was stronger which meant she couldn’t cover up all of it. He refused to imagine she had been taken away until he had searched the entire castle twice. She had to be here, somewhere.

He went first to the kitchen, hoping to find her behind the counter, a plate with chocolate cake in front of her. She would look up, fork still in mouth and she would smile guiltily at him. She would apologize, saying she was always so hungry lately and he would shake it off, taking another fork and join her even if he hated cake. Just to show her she wasn’t alone.

But when he opened the door, the kitchen was empty, making Rowan’s heart clench.

Next, he went to the throne room, hoping to find her sitting on her throne, a sad smile on her face she would try to conceal with a smirk. He would ask her what she was doing here and she would tell him she needed to be alone and to feel in power, and what better than her throne to make her feel powerful? But this room was empty too, and Rowan’s heart crushed a little further.

Maybe she was in the inside cemetery, kneeling between both her parent’s graves. She would look up at him and wouldn’t try to hide her tears. She would have a smile on her face, telling him she needed to feel close to them. To be between the two of them without waking up with blood everywhere. Rowan would nod and sit behind her, letting her rest her back on his chest and he would let her cry bringing her all the comfort she needed. But she wasn’t here, and Rowan didn’t know where to look for her now.

If they were in Rifthold, he would probably think she was speaking to either Sam or Nehemia, telling both of them everything about what happened in their court since the last time she spoke to them.

But they weren’t in Adarlan so it left only one place where she could be. His walk to the library was slow, slower than he wished. He could just shift and fly instead of taking all the stairs but if she was there she would make fun of him for it, she had enough to tease him already.

When he arrived at the library, as always, he was dazzled by the splendor of the room. The last time the librarians counted, Aelin and Rowan owned three hundred thousand books and that was a decade ago, just after the construction work was finished.

Aelin had cried and laughed and smiled for hours when she first saw it, walking through all the sections to see every book, then made love to Rowan on the floor, more tenderly than they were both used to, to thank him.

As if seized by a frenzy, Rowan walked like a mad man through the library to find her. He regretted giving her something so big, having to look at every fucking row. There were so many places to hide.

After what seemed like hours, Roan saw familiar blonde hair. He let a sob come out in relief. She wasn't gone. There was no Valg Queen that had pulled her away from Rowan, no, his Fireheart was just sitting on a couch that looked very comfortable, six pillows behind her back.

"Rowan?" She asked, raising her eyes full of concern. "Is everything okay?" Her eyebrows were furrowed.

Instead of answering, he rushed to her side, falling onto her lap to be on the same level as her and scanning her entire body to make sure she was okay and truly in front of him.

His eyes fell on a small scar on her right knee, a scar she had made during one of their training sessions. He remembered kissing the mark every night for weeks when he noticed it after enjoying his wife's goddess body. He hadn't noticed that she was injured during their workout and he felt terrible about it.

Aelin kept telling him he was fussing, but he knew deep down she liked it. She loved to be cherished and protected. He dropped his head to her lap, unable to fight a sob. She put her book aside, sitting straighter and one of her hands found her way in his hair. Rowan hated himself for the tears streaming down his face as he looked up at her, he hated himself even more for the look of agony on his mate’s face.

“Speak to me, please.” She begged him, her hand still playing in his hair.

He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice even and strong but he couldn’t. “I thought you were gone.” He breathed deeply, trying to calm down and focusing on where he touched her, his hands and arms on her legs. “I woke up to an empty bed and your fearful scent and I panicked.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Rowan.”

“You weren’t supposed to go anywhere either last time but you still did.” He hated the poisonous words the moment they felt his mouth but his mate didn’t seem hurt, knowing anger was his way to cope. “I’m sorry,” He hid his face on her leg, not wanting to see her hurt face.

“Don’t be,” Was the only thing she said as she kept stroking his hair. She was too good to him, she had always been. She had known so much pain her entire life but she was still an amazing person, Rowan didn’t know how much strength it must take her. The Gods knew Rowan lacked that particular strength when the time had come, he had turned into the worst version of himself. He admired his Fireheart.

After a moment, Rowan looked back at her and she smiled, his entire world brightened at this. She was okay, she was right here with him. She was safe.

“How are you?” He asked, feeling selfish for crying when she was the one who had a nightmare.

“We’re both okay, Rowan.” She reassured him as her free hand came to rest on her slightly rounded belly. Rowan’s heart swelled at the sight, he still couldn’t believe it. After years, decades, of trying Azlin was pregnant. She had been glowing for the past four months, even if she said otherwise.

“Is she still kicking?” He asked, one of his hands joining Aelin’s.

“Your son is restless, I hope you slept enough in your life because he’s not going to let us sleep much once he’s here.”

Both Aelin and him had a divergence of opinion on their baby’s sex. Aelin was sure it was a boy, whereas Rowan believed it was a girl. A girl had been their oldest in the vision he had for months when Aelin was gone. It had been too realistic to be a dream, had felt too real.

Yrene knew and had asked them if they wanted to know, but both of them agreed they wanted to keep it secret. They had too many surprises in their lives and none of them had been good, but this one would be. No more surprises unless it’s a good one.

“She’ll be worth every sleepless night.” His lips turned into a smile at the idea of a little Aelin and Rowan.

Aelin snorted. “Wait until you have to change diapers.”

At that, Rowan laughed, soon followed by Aelin. When he saw a hint of sadness in her eyes, his smile faded. “What did you dream of?” He asked, needing to know why his wife had left their room after a nightmare instead of waking him up.

She lost her smile too, her body tenser than moments ago. “Nothing important.”

“Please, tell me.”

She took a deep breath and some time to answer. Rowan didn’t mind, he’d give her eternity if she needed as long as he knew what troubled his wife. He got up, lifted Aelin's legs so he could sit next to her, and then rested her legs on his while he caressed her thighs in comfort. “I was you.”

“With Maeve?”

She shook her head making his confusion grow. She had already told him about nightmares of him being taken on that beach, of him being whipped and tortured for months. He had held her as she cried, as she told him the pain of losing him would have been so much more than the pain she experienced all these months away from him.

“In Arobynn’s cave.” She whispered as tears pooled in her eyes. He wouldn’t take her in his arms, he would wait for her to do it first, no need to overwhelm her. “With your eyes missing, whole body destroyed and a cold body.”

Oh.

“Fireheart…”

“Have you ever dreamed of me like that?” She asked and he knew she didn’t mean just dreams of her, dead.

“I did.” He admitted, his heart beating faster at the thought of it. “First in Wendlyn, when you left for Rifthold. Every time I closed my eyes I lived the day I found Lyria over and over again. But it wasn’t her small body that I saw, it was yours. It haunted me for months.” He took a deep breath, controlling his emotions. Aelin was crying, she didn’t need someone else to become a wreck. “Then when you told me you were pregnant, it started again.”

It happened more than he wanted to admit. He knew it wouldn’t happen, it was impossible, but he still could see her dead body in front of his destroyed mountain home.

Aelin didn’t say anything but she straddled him, his hands finding her waist as her fingers slipped through his hair. Her forehead came to rest on his as they both closed their eyes, enjoying each other’s company. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

His hand stroked her back, his fingers drawing the lines of his tattoo he knew by heart now. Every part of her body was written in his mind. “You were sleeping so peacefully, I know it’s rare lately.” Her warm hand cupped his cheek and he sighed in her embrace. “Whenever I don’t feel okay and you’re not around, I come here.”

“The library?”

“Or the theater if I feel like walking.” Which wasn’t a lot lately, his wife’s pregnancy was taking her so much energy they didn’t go to the theater in months. She was always so tired or in pain, he knew she missed it. “Whenever I’m here, I feel so close to you, as if part of your soul was here between these walls.”

His heart clenched at it, he lifted up his head, his lips settled gently on hers. He kissed her languidly, generously, putting as much love and passion as he could. He loved her so much he felt like dying. He would die without her.

Slowly, she began to unbutton his shirt, her tongue continuing to play with Rowan's. The kiss turned from passionate to needy. He needed the reassurance she was here, she was with him, and his mate knew it.

In a matter of moments, Rowan was shirtless and had pulled her nightgown over her head, revealing her naked body. Aelin had gained weight in the years since the war, her body that had once been too thin was now full. She had had a hard time adjusting, she had been starving most of her life. Even during her years with Arobynn, she was always under a strict diet to stay the best. She had never been in a stable enough place for her to thrive.

So when her flat stomach rounded out, thighs grew and cheeks filled out, it was a shock. Rowan had been there to worship her body day and night, reminding her that she was just living, and seeing her happy was the most beautiful thing Rowan had ever seen.

One of Rowan’s hands was teasing Aelin’s sensitive nipple, tearing little cries out of her perfect, delicate, lips. Her hands undid his buckle quickly as Rowan lifted his hips to slide his pants and underwear down, freeing his hard member.

Aelin didn’t waste time before taking him, her hand around him applying just the right amount of pressure. His hand slipped between her legs, directly finding her wet and warm entrance. They moaned together as Aelin’s hand movement quickened and Rowan plunged two fingers in her warmth, hitting that spot inside of her that made her scream every time.

As good as it was, Rowan craved something else, so when he groaned Aelin understood. He pulled out his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to taste her. No matter how many years had passed since the first time, Rowan kept being surprised at how good she tasted. He moaned around his fingers as Aelin teased her entrance with his erection before sinking down, making both of their heads drop back.

Being inside of her had always felt so good, had always felt so right, as if he had been born just to do this. Her belly prevented their chests from touching but Rowan didn’t mind as he ran his hands on every inch of her skin as she started moving.

Aelin kept bouncing slowly on top of him, taking her time as she chased her pleasure, and once again Rowan realized how much he loved her. His Fireheart, his mate, his wife, and his best friend.

He loved her so damn much and he told her so, repeated it over and over again as they both fell over the edge, gripping the other’s skin as they reached the peak of pleasure.

They were both breathless as he lifted her up, pulling out of her and he used his shirt to clean her up. He didn’t want to get dressed not yet, anyway. He lied on his side, tucking his Fireheart next to him. That way, every inch of his front could touch her back. One of his hands came to rest on her belly as he took her book, opening it to where she had left a bookmark.

“What are you doing?” She asked him, her voice sleepy. He used his magic to extinguish most of the candles in the bookstore, leaving only the ones behind him lit to give him some light. "Shhh." He said softly into her ear, moving slightly to be more comfortable, and pulled her even closer to him. "You don't have to come back to reality now." He told her then began to read her book aloud.

He couldn’t see her but deep down, he left her smile as she put her hand against his, both of them holding their baby as they hugged each other.

Aelin fell asleep quickly but Rowan didn’t stop reading, even if after many hours his voice became hoarse and his throat hurt. But if his Fireheart heard him maybe she would know he was still here, even in her sleep.

—————

@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @surielandiareendgame // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy

#rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius

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everafterkeiji · 3 years

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Summary: The so-called chemistry between you two is superbly deadly, so why not take it to the next level?

Pairings: Testurou Kuroo x fem!reader

Word count: 5.3k

Tags, Genre: fake lovers! trope, slight angst

A/N: 🤺 stay back🤺feelings🤺

Maybe you should've disagreed on the 10th time or maybe the 8th or 11th?

Honestly, there was no stopping the couple of the year.

"She didn't really say yes at first but with a little push of love she finally did." Kuroo comments, a drink in hand as you smiled against his side, with his arm around you.

"Please, I didn't need a push. I was too in love with the dumbass to say no." Your relatives practically awe at your comment while Kuroo kisses the top of your head, as you smile to sell the deal.

"What are you guys planning on after you graduate? I hope you two continue to stay like this." One of your relatives says as you both recall the plan.

"Moving in doesn't sound so bad, right babe?" He asks you while you sip your drink, feeling his hand slide down to your waist while they cheer at his dialogue.

"I wish young love looked like this when I had it!"

"Y/N is so lucky!"

"Tetsu is the best man for Y/N!"

Sighing with pain to your gums, you spoke.

"Excuse me, I'm just going to refill my drink. Coming babe?"

"Of course, bub." He says before excusing himself as well, while he walks away, his hand loses contact with your waist knowing there wasn't a sight of anyone else in the kitchen apart from you and him.

And cut.

"I thought our fourth line was that we would take things slow—what you said was literally our fifth line, Tetsu. It's too early." You say as you actually refilled your cup as Kuroo sighs but he smiles, leaning on the wall looking at you.

"Well might as well go all out, I'm not an actor for nothing, babe." You sigh as you drank as Kuroo pats your hair, after a sip, you let out a chuckle.

"Actually, their reactions were everything." You say as Kuroo smiles before setting down the cup on the table.

"Did you see your grandmother? She's going to beg you to wear her wedding dress now." He jokes while you shake your head, denying the offer.

You introduced your relatives to him last year, he was thankful that you trusted him this well to get this far in your family. You hated how they fell into this little trap of yours but it was still entertaining to see them act like this, even if guilt trailed alongside it.

"Seriously, do we go over line 5 now?" You asked with a slight smirk as Kuroo intertwined his hands with yours, with the other ready to open the door.

"We'll see how our audience reacts first, babe."

"You did not— you guys are taking this too far. How are you feeling?" Yaku asks through the phone as you bit down on your finger as you tried to come up with another excuse to why you keep allowing yourself in this position.

"I'm fine Yaku seriously! Me and Kuroo are staying at this hotel because of the whole family event earlier." You ran a hand through your hair, feeling the stress set in that you were actually sleeping in the same room as him.

This faux relationship has never led to this point. Kuroo has asked you for permission in case he were to kiss your cheek, hand, or forehead and you allowed yourself every time because this is what you got yourself into in the first place.

You agreed because it didn't bring your heart leaps of excitement—not even a sight of a butterfly in your system.

No matter how many times he's held your hand or planted a kiss on your temple, it didn't feel like Cupids touch— the arrows of love purposely hitting you in the wrong places. You initially thought that it was actually risky, to find yourself falling sooner than expected but a year into this 'relationship' you actually enjoyed the experience without having your heart miss a beat because of it all.

Your bond with Kuroo can only be described by the words bickering and platonic. Because of the way you interact with each other and how you constantly visit each others places, everyone could see where this friendship could end up so you took this advantage just for people to avoid the both of you which turns out to be the opposite, now everyone wanted to dig themselves in the news that you actually got together.

"Y/N- Kuroo please explain your work here on the table." You had your experiment carefully in your hands as Kuroo guides you to the table as you went on with your explanation. The teacher was well impressed with the two of you with how prepared you are, you can thank Kuroo for that and your ability to act like you've got your shit together.

"This is why we-" You two said it in sync making the two of you stare at each other as Kuroo chuckles continuing the explanation while you were left to stay silent with the glares from the girls who admired him—and the boys who liked you sent their threats to Kuroo just by glancing at him.

"Thank you, good job you two. I see that chemistry suits the both of you." Your teacher comments and as you walked away you rolled your eyes, disgusted at the corny joke.

"It's working too well actually."

Someone shut him up. You think as you felt the urge to give him a punch to shoulder. Kuroo was dragging more attention to the two of you and you hated it. You knew they were all jokes from your classmates but Kuroo kept feeding and responding to these claims, now you were the center of curiosity.

"Tetsu, I will shove a foot down your throat." You threatened when you were back to your chairs he shrugged making you more irritated.

"It shut them up didn't they? Let's fake it instead." He suggests, now making you slap his arm but his smirk remained on his lips.

"Dumbass, we'd be surrounded with questions and attention- I hate this idea already."

"What about the free couple food and drinks at the mall? You don't wanna experience that?"

"You are not using that card on me, Tetsurou." You said pouting as your chemistry teacher sends a suspicious eye to the both of you, also signalling for you two to stay quiet.

"I know you and you know me well enough that this isn't gonna lead into an actual relationship plus my dad has been bugging me about a girlfriend for weeks." You sigh as Kuroo extends his hand to you, to finalize this outrageous deal.

Looking at where you are now, you wouldn't have it any other way even if it was odd to fake date your best friend. You wouldn't agree if you didn't trust Kuroo to an extent. He would never do anything that makes you uncomfortable, he dragged you into this so he was always careful with his actions. It was always your feelings before his even if his jokes didn't show it.

Kuroo enters the room with a yawn just as you ended the call with Yaku. You patted the space next to you as he plops down on the bed, his head on your lap as you ran your hair through his dark locks.

"Is my boyfriend exhausted from the attention?" You asked him with a giggle as he closes his eyes, in a trance at your fingers doing him magic as you continued.

"Isn't that the girlfriends job to comfort me?" He says, making you smile. There really wasn't any meaning to his words, you were glad that the two of you were sure that everything is a joke. If not, then maybe you two are absolutely fucked.

"Is it okay for you to sleep here? I can always drive us home if you want." You shake your head no as you leaned your back in the soft pillow, relaxing a bit.

" 'S fine, Tetsu. Looks like we're gonna have to sleep here for a while huh?" He sighs before sitting up and leaning on a pillow as well before planting his head on your shoulder, his hand comfortably resting on your knee. It was a habit he had whenever he comforted you in your sorrow but it grew when he does it under the table when you sat next to each other.

Kuroo denies that he's doing this because he just wants to feel close to you. He may be in a sea of people but if he holds onto you, he forgets them in a second. There's always a possibility for him to feel lonely in a crowd but this feeling washes away when he has a chance to feel you around him.

"Tell me if somethings wrong yeah?" He says softly as you nod and he leans to your body more, feeling drowsy at the warmth you gave.

"I do find you annoying, that's a problem right there." You joke as he rolls his eyes and pulling away from you and transferring to the right side of the bed.

"Good night then." He says stubbornly, covering his ears with the pillow while you laugh before going to the right side and drowning in the blankets.

"Night, Kuroo." You bid him as you turn off the lights.

The next morning you really wished you didn't give in to him.

Tangled in each others arms, the blankets scattered everywhere as Kuroo was snuggled into your neck when you woke up. It's difficult to move without worrying about him waking up, so you had to move little by little. First, you slowly remove his arm that was on your waist. Second, you tried to rest his head on the pillow instead of you. Third, you scurry away from him successfully.

All of these were disregarded when he pulls you back into his arms, mumbling something while you mentally groan. Kuroos fingers continued to gaze itself on your skin while you sighed, accepting it as it is.

"Tetsu-"

"Five minutes." He whispers not minding the state he's in. He moves away from you when he realizes the sleepiness in him has faded. He stretches, making you stand up and fix your appreance. He sits up after a few seconds and you turn to look at him and his bed hair which never fails to make you laugh.

"I don't allow bullying this early." He says as he throws on a proper shirt. You decided to fix the bed while he brushes his teeth.

"Tonight's the party right?" You asked him as he nods before spitting out the residue of the toothpaste. You went through your bag plotting out the outfits you could wear later. The event was a wedding week of your relatives and it was also an opportunity to set out your weekly episode of a relationship.

It's currently Saturday and the wedding is tomorrow. Tonight was basically a party for both sides of the family. One for the bride and one for the groom. You gave Kuroo a fair warning about their traits when they were drunk but you guys are third years—you've seen how people acted when they were intoxicated.

"Should we just drop line 6?" He jokes, making you throw a pillow directly to his face.

Let's do a role call on these lines.

Line 1 was the backstory of your lovestory. Silly as it may come to others, all these excellent lies were planned beforehand. Each and every one of them. To the date where you confessed, to the exact details on each memory, to the date you officially started dating and of course it included the story that Kuroo has told one too many times already, like a script he remembers with no trace of mistake.

Line 2 were the filler memories. Random come ups of dates and embarrassing stories to grab their attentions in each gathering. Though, this line is the most truthful then the rest. Some of these stories are actually true to life but those that are too romantically disgusting? You can thank your imaginations for that.

Line 3 is the talk of seriousness. Love has actually blossomed by then. It consisted of stories of who said "I love you" first and who actually fell first in the relationship. Mentions of what moment made them realize how in love you were and precious memories that could make everyone long for a companion like yours.

Line 4 is fake maturity at its finest. Why not look like the perfect couple there is to exist? This was sort of a pit stop in your 'relationship'. This is where Kuroo narrows down the pace of you two by throwing some lines like "We're too young to decide for something that big." And "We never know what happens in the future."

Line 5 is moving in with each other. God, you even looked for proper apartments just so you don't mess up a question. You were graduating after all so it was inescapable to talk about your upcoming plans together.

Line 6 shouldn't be used. That's talks of marriage and god— adulting. You two inserted this line as a mere joke knowing once you've gone through college, all these lines would simply disappear because they could never ask about you two anymore. If parents loved something about couples, it's the talk of marriage. Luckily, you and Kuroo hate the topic and simply agreed that this should be avoided at all costs.

"Never." You say as he hands you the pillow you threw before setting it back on the bed. You share a look to each other while you head out of your room to meet with his family.

Hours later, you got distracted in the sensation of his hands intertwined with yours.

Kuroo has subconsciously done it again. Underneath the table, swiping his thumb on the palm of your hand while his expression doesn't even show the slightest bit of interest in what he's doing below. Occasionally, Kuroo would send you a text on how boring the conversation was going so you'd bring up a topic for the both of you.

"You ok?" He asks while you smile at him before leaning your head on his shoulder, suddenly exhausted with wondering about him.

"I'm fine, babe." You say while he forgets the noise in the background. The nickname slipping of your lips so easily, even when you didn't need to call him that.

"Wanna go back to our room?" That was what you wanted anyway but was it rude to walk out of gatherings like this?

"Is that fine with you?" You asked looking up to meet his eyes.

"As long as your okay." He says, making your heart give out a pocket of panic.

You stood up with him following behind you. He was genuinely concerned with you so he catches up to you, slinging his arm around your shoulder bringing you close to him.

"Thanks, Tetsu." You bid him as he opens the door for you. You lied down on the bed as Kuroo sits beside you.

"You sure you're okay? I can tell them that you can't attend the party if you're sick."

"I just got really bored and distracted back there. I'm sorry if I made you worry." Kuroo flicks your forehead with his finger making you say "ow."

"Stop saying sorry, dumbass. You're my priority either way."

Stop. No. Never, remember? You think to yourself.

"Is it because I'm your 'girl?' "

"You've always been my girl, what are you talking about?" He says raising an eyebrow at you while you hit him with a pillow, confused to why your cheeks became warm at his statement.

"Oi, what was that for!" He says before throwing a pillow at you as an act of revenge. Still flushed from earlier, you threw another pillow at him. You couldn't even respond to him without telling your heart to calm down.

"You know what? Let's just watch a movie to pass some time." You suggested taking your laptop while Kuroo stares at you, bewildered at how swift your mood changes.

"Women confuse me. Especially you, god- you remind me of Bokuto. Now scooch over, lady."

I really am lucky.

Kuroo thinks to himself while he watches you twirl around the mirror for the 5th time just to temporarily assure your insecurities.

Your outfit fits you like a glove. Hugging every curve of your body, the fabric decorating you with its design. Shades of dark colors on your eyes and a tempting lip color that drives Kuroo insane with this new found thought.

"Before you can ask me, you look amazing Y/N- I don't think that's enough to describe how you look tonight." He says, almost out of breath. You quickly get flustered, turning to notice his outfit. Eyes daring up and down, taking in every bit of the stunning middle blocker.

"Hopefully I can remind you that my eyes are up here." He takes a step towards you, inches away from your nose as he studies your appearance. You just stand out, like a star blinding him. Dangerous as it is, he stares the longest at your lips.

"Y/N? Honey, our ride is here! Tell Kuroo that the guys are looking for him as well!" Your aunt shouts making Kuroo step back, not wanting a problem to surface upon the deal.

"We can meet here at 10pm if you ever feel bored okay?" You nod at him as he places a kiss on your forehead.

"Noted." You said smiling at him, you honestly forgot to thank him for the compliment but the way your eyes danced around him gave him an answer already.

"I'll see you in a bit."

Kuroo feels the need to step out of this party. It wasn't like he didn't enjoy the stories of your uncles but this wasn't a circle he could fit into. Sure, the karaoke was humourous to watch but there was a need for him to be alone with you instead.

So, he dials your phone.

"Kuroo? What is it?" You asked him, escaping the noise of your aunties laughing as you went to the balcony.

"Just checking in on you, you good?"

"Is this a signal that you wanna leave babe?" You said chuckling, Kuroo smiles while he stands up to meet with your relatives to bid them goodbye.

"Sadly, yes and you?"

"I'll be there."

Few minutes passed as Kuroo got to your location. He couldn't allow you to commute when you looked that stunning, he was there to keep you safe at all times so you spent your time with silence in a cab back to the hotel. Kuroo didn't wanna talk about the party because he felt too drained to do it.

He takes his jacket and places it on your shoulders while you pull them closer to your body.

You two were seated on the bed while Kuroo removes your heels and setting them on the floor next to your other pairs of shoes. After removing them, you travel to the kitchen and sit on the sink as you drank water. Kuroo follows you with him beside you, leaning on it.

Why is it so quiet? You wondered.

Usually, Kuroo would make remarks or just bring up a conversation with you but you two just sat there with thoughts lingering around each other. While you set down the glass, Kuroo sets himself between your legs making your eyes widen while he sets his hands on either side your hip.

"What's on your mind? You do know that your silence is too loud for me." He says stroking your sides, making you trapped in a heated moment.

"Tetsu-"

"You've been off all morning. What's going on, Y/N?" He asks with sincerity. Ever since breakfast, all he's noticed is how your eyes never dared to stare back at his. How fidgety you were with his hand in yours, the way you'd gaze off into a state of thinking for a few seconds and your hands would feel cold compared to his.

"I- I don't know." You said honestly. There was a block in your mind and your heart. You couldn't notice how you were acting because there's a certain discussion that you unintentionally avoid. Was it the panic Kuroo set your heart in? Is it the way his skin on yours makes you wanna melt?

Was it the butterfly fluttering in you when he said you were his?

"Maybe you're just falling in love with me." Kuroo whispers leaning his face close to yours. God, he was joking. He should be but with his body moving without his system functioning before his orders, he was doomed already.

Unexpectedly, you leaned closer.

You could feel how Kuroo held his hand firmer to your hip while he continues to take away the centimeters in the space you had left. Tilting his head, his lips were impeccably close to yours, threatening you with how you wished they'd be on you already.

But what if I am?

"Isn't that part of the game?" You whispered back, as he steps away. The moment washes over him making his knees almost give out at what he just wanted to do. You sighed as he walks away, leaving you stranded in a pool of questionable feelings.

Your hearts were screaming. What foolishness did you insert yourself in? Kuroo felt like he shouldn't have walked away and chose the fatal move by kissing you the way he always wanted to do but he had to avoid the tightening of his chest.

No one can win in a battle of temptations, especially when your lips were calling his name.

You removed yourself from the sink while you entered your shared bed seeing Kuroo tucked in the sheets, obviously hiding.

You hopped on the either side of the bed with a sigh as you tried to silence out the voices in your head.

I don't want to be in this with you anymore.

It wasn't a surprise to see the left side of the bed empty. The moment you woke up, the both of you weren't ready to converse what happened last night, especially the middle blocker. It was his move and you couldn't even manage to move on your own after it. Now what surrounds the room is unresolved tension.

You finally got out of bed, stepping into the bathroom to brush your teeth, locking the door to leave you at peace with your mind. You decided to take a shower knowing the time of the wedding.

Kuroo comes back from grabbing your breakfast. He sees the impact of what happened last night. It was his fault for leaving without explanation now he has to endure the coldness of it all.

He hears the water running so he leans his forehead on the door, his heart wanting nothing more then for everything to be the way it was before.

"If only you knew." He whispers before gathering his tux for the event, sighing to himself.

When you walk out with a towel on, hair dripping droplets, he turns away immediately while you felt the frustration grew in how he was acting.

During your shower, you chose to base your actions with your brain instead of your heart. It can never lead you to proper decisions. Kuroo was making the situation worse—you had expected him to act like nothing happened the next day, maybe then things would have been easier.

"Have you eaten breakfast?" You asked him while he gives you a nod.

Speak to me please.

"I'll go get ready then." There was no point in hoping for a response from him and you grew tired because of it.

His mouth couldn't agree with his mind. He was caught up on if he wanted to apologize or act like nothing happened. He couldn't read your emotions properly even if he feels like he should 'cause if not then this going to grow into something you could both hate.

He's in between of thinking if you want things to be 'normal' or if you want some sort of explanation from him. He also feels like you'd escape the conversation seeing that you leaned in as well, which surprised him. He just can't face it, he can't bring up the words to express how right it felt even if it was wrong.

Still, both ways has his heart still long for you. The regret hasn't died in his body and he wishes it would.

"What time do you think they'll take us to the venue?" Your voice makes him awake somehow, he turns to see applying your makeup in the dress that the bride suggested you'd wear. Just like yesterday, he was struck again. The way the white stood out with the faint details of the dress had you glow like a star he wishes on.

"I don't know." He responds, he fell short on his words and there was still a clear state of hesitation that follows him.

You were fueled by him, yet this fire couldn't be held back.

Kuroo sees the way you drop the brush, leaving a sound echo through the silence he made, the way your heels clicked when you walked right up to him, a weak feeling setting in him knowing your stare was digging holes in his head as he looks at you.

"I think you're forgetting that you moved first."

You say, making him sweat under the confrontation but you let your words show how he managed to place your heart in your hands.

"So why act like we didn't want the same thing?"

You had him stunned. There weren't proper thoughts that ran in his mind, some parts of him still bringing him back to what happened last night and the other wanted to look into the future which was looking unsteady.

"We wouldn't want to ruin our deal, right?" His tone was laced with a threat. He couldn't even set his decisions right. Just blurting out words he thought was enough for the both of you.

"Kuroo, that wasn't an act." You argued making him crumble with another mistake in his response. You both felt it and there wasn't a way to act all blind to it. You were aware and admitted it to him face to face. That was the confirmation he needed to get his heart removed from its knots.

"Y/N-"

You step closer to him, a firm finger on his chest while your eyes stayed on

"If the show is more important to you, then let's call it like nothing happened."

While you give a push to his chest, you turned your back to him hoping it'd make him walk to you and tell you his genuine feelings.

But your heels lead you away from him and his feet remained glued to the floor.

They say weddings brought people together to celebrate love.

That is- the love that circled between you two is an experiment you'll never understand.

As you went to the wedding, everyone looked at this perfect couple who radiated silent rage with each other.

Kuroo feels the sting in his heart when you were forced to hold his hand and stick around him. Your voice portrayed it so easily- like this role of being his girlfriend was a reflex, something that you know by the back of the hand.

Meanwhile, he's forgotten his lines.

His expressions, the nicknames guardedly falling off his lips, the shaking hands that roamed around your waist, he was falling apart.

Suddenly, forgetting his role and searching for the script of reality.

Everyone can see it. The way you smiled and tried to avoid questions of why you both seems so close but feel so distant with each other. You'd laugh it off or change the topic to the lovely couple instead, even the bride could sense it.

While the ceremony begins, Kuroo couldn't stop looking at your direction. How could he not when his eyes loved the sight of you? Disregarding the tone of your voice earlier that scared the wits out of him, the way you strutted in that dress of yours still had his heart held captive.

Meanwhile, you kept your eyes busy by trying to focus on the couple. If you didn't control yourself, you would drown in him. Did that tux really have to be perfect in him? The way his hair was actually swept back with gel, exposing a new level of attraction for you.

For a second, Kuroo looks away knowing you'd never look his way the same way again.

And Cupid was sure to hit you right this time.

"Honey, you've shown me love in ways I never knew you could do. At first, I was scared. You know me- love is a deadly road but you drove me to the safest place. Love is scary but with you— I'm willing to fear it as long as I'm yours." The bride vows making some of your relatives form tears in their eyes at the beautiful choice of words.

You bit your lip, finding it ironic how it fits you. You were sure as hell scared. Knowing Kuroo and having to experience a bond with him and it could all end because of a mere kiss. You weren't ready to lose, both in love and in this level of fate.

"I've never said it before but I was scared too. It doesn't show- I know. Losing you is something that haunts me for the rest of my life, it's cliche but what's love without you? Even if I'm having some trouble in saying it, I love you and I don't think I can ever lie about that." The groom says while the bride wipes away her tears, fanning her eyes.

Didn't that just took the words right out of Kuroo?

He gulps, looking at you as you also turned to look at him. An antsy feeling settling in your bodies, the number of butterflies swarming around you was increasing with every word that replays in your minds.

Minutes pass as the newly married couple kiss, making you both awaken at the sound of cheers from your relatives. You stood up from your seat, joining the crowd as they watch the two walk down the path smiling at each other.

Kuroo was on the other side, joined by your male relatives while you were on the side with your aunties. Both of you were tremendously nervous. You decided to avert your eyes on the bride as she readies herself to thow the boquet of bright flowers.

You sighed as you decided to walk away but destiny tugs on your motives.

Time slows down as the boquet thrown in the air was circling around while they all watched on whose lucky hands it lands on. They all tried to reach it, believing in the myth that surrounded it.

Dropping an item from your bag, you bent down to pick it up but what made your eyes widen was the sight of the fallen flowers in front of you and everyone that surrounded you, disappeared in your mind.

Picking it up slowly, the boquet resting in your hand as you admired each flower but your heart was struck like an arrow hittings its target point.

Kuroo held his breath, clenching his hands as he stood there.

Giving one last glance to the boquet, your eyes finally met Kuroos astounded ones and the world goes into a blur while he remained to stay focused in your line of sight.

Just like that, Cupid lands a bullseye to both hearts.

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#kuroo angst #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x y/n #hq kuroo #nekoma

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eryiss · 3 years

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Summary: Freed and Gajeel were total opposites in every way, only connected by the guild. When they were forced to train together under Makarov's orders, they expected antagonism and mistrust. Instead, they were given a lesson in how quickly opposition can turn to attraction. The issue: let the budding relationship simmer away, or let it explode. [Freed x Gajeel Multi-chapter]

Notes: Hope you all enjoyed the last chapter, and thanks for sticking with this. It’s quite fun to write for this ship, and I hope you’re all ready for homoerotic exercise and another argument between men who don’t know how to communicate :)

Links: FFN, Ao3, Chapter List

Chapter Three - Proving a Point

Day Two: Tuesday

Gajeel woke in a pissy mood. This wasn't going like it was supposed to.

Freed was meant to be a smug, self important man with no practical skills, no world-hardened experiences, and no way of keeping up with what Gajeel was demanding of him. His three day plan had focused around humbling Freed, telling him that he wasn't hot-shit like he clearly thought, and making him realise that his cushioned life didn't mean he was Gajeel's equal.

What was not meant to happen was for Freed to be competent! He wasn't meant to make a shelter, he wasn't meant to be able to make a fire without a match, and he wasn't meant to be able to cook the damn fish and make them taste good! Even Gajeel couldn't do that.

Worse, the fucker knew. Oh he knew what Gajeel wanted but wasn't getting.

He hadn't been so smug when he'd lost though, had he? He hasn't been running his mouth when he'd been in the stream, gurgling his pathetic little surrender. Nah, he'd looked exactly how Gajeel wanted him; weak, embarrassed and unable to deal with the fact he was out of his league.

Sure, it hadn't taken long for Freed to recover and spout some bullshit about Gajeel being intimidated by his magic, or whatever the hell it was he said. He was trying to save face and Gajeel wouldn't let him; he had lost their fight because he couldn't live without his spells. That was impractical, short sighted and the way a spoiled brat of a man worked. No doubt if he had to rely on his fists more, he would have seen the stream as something to take advantage of and used it, rather than falling into Gajeel's trap.

Hah. At least one thing had gone Gajeel's way.

Mostly.

Kind of.

Look, Gajeel might hate the man and the things he seemed to stand for, but Freed wasn't bad looking. And Gajeel was just a man, who had been stripped to the waist with Freed in the same state of undress, wrestling one another. He was bound to get distracted for a moment. Thankfully, Freed's nasty kick to the balls and the ensuing tantrum after had quickly quelled any growing interest.

Gajeel knew what he had to do today, though. Because if he was going to fight with Freed at the end of the week, he needed to respect the man. He wasn't going to respect Freed if he couldn't take a defeat, and if he couldn't handle himself without his magic. So today, Freed was going to prove he had the ability to back up his words.

Okay, it was a tenuous reason for what he had planned, but fuck it. Fuck Freed too.

It was tempting to wake the prick up by dumping some of the water Gajeel had gathered over his sleeping face - a nice little reminder of how the fight had ended - but he decided against it. He needed to have everything prepared before he woke up, so it would be better to check that everything was in place. That, and Freed apparently snored a little when he was sleeping, and Gajeel certainly didn't want to interrupt the possible blackmail that could come from it.

And perhaps it was nice to have something cut through the silence of the forest.

Gajeel had trained in this forest many times, and as such had come to know how to utilise it's assets. He wandered slowly, blinking away the sleep in his eyes, and eventually found what he was looking for. A large tree that had fallen down years ago, and stumbled down a hill. What remained was a leafless trunk at the bottom of a steep incline, perfect for strength training.

Next, he walked to the largest upstanding tree within reasonable walking distance. Gajeel had often climbed this tree to push his agility and upper body strength, and it was the perfect way to test Freed's practical skills. The tree was still standing tall, the branches Gajeel used to climb still attached. Perfect, no excuses for when Freed fucked up.

When he got to the lake, Gajeel grinned a little. The morning was cold and the water would be freezing, the worst temperature to take a swim in. Normally Gajeel would have hated to swim in weather like this, but it would certainly be a nice wake-up call for the spoiled little Prince.

Yeah, this was gonna be fun. For Gajeel anyway.

——

"I think yesterday proved pretty damp conclusively that you're out of luck if you don't have your magic," Gajeel said with crossed arms, looking down at Freed. "So, today I'm gonna teach you a couple techniques that'll come in handy when you're in a situation where you can't spell yourself out of trouble."

Freed clearly wanted to make a comment, but held his tongue. He was learning, huh.

When Gajeel had returned from his check of the forest, Freed had woken up, set up a new fire and was using the rest of the fish (and a few berries that he had picked) to make them both a breakfast. Gajeel had wanted to reject it out of hand, but it had smelt great and if it was anywhere near as good as his meal the day before, refusing it would be a mistake. It had tasted amazing, so Gajeel had huffed out a thanks and gave a short nod of thanks.

Soon after that, Gajeel had motioned for Freed to follow him. Freed had done so without complaint - Gajeel couldn't prove it, but liked to think it was because the asshole was too embarrassed after his loss - and allowed himself to be led down the stream, towards the lake.

"You've got wings right, when you use yer magic?" Gajeel asked. "So yer probably gonna use 'em to get over every little thing, right?"

"Like you do with your little cat friend, I expect," Freed commented, and Gajeel stiffened slightly. Freed noticed and smirked a little. "My apologies, I interrupted you. Please, go on."

"Don't need yer permission," Gajeel grunted, more to himself than to the man standing before him. "But if yer using yer wings as much as I think you are, you ain't ready to deal with terrain that ain't easy to walk through. So, if this week's about improving then this is gonna help you get over that flaw. We run from here towards the lake, taking us through forested ground which ain't even and ain't safe, and then we swim from one side of the lake to the other."

"So it's a race then?" Freed asked, annoyingly not intimidated by the proposition.

"If you want," Gajeel shrugged. "But I ain't got a prize or anythin'. Definitely not one for participation, like yer probably used to."

Freed rolled his eyes at that, but didn't ride to the bait. Instead, he said, "Perhaps when I win, you'll cook for once."

"You ain't gonna win," Gajeel claimed.

"We'll see," Freed hummed a little, far too smug for his own good.

"Stretch up," Gajeel muttered, even though he wanted to push the man further, maybe even see if he could add an actual forfeit for losing, something to really make the fucker squirm. But, well, Gajeel didn't know for sure he would win, so couldn't risk things just in case.

Just as Gajeel went to start stretching his calves, he heard the sound of ruffling fabric and frowned. He ignored it for a moment as he felt the gentle burn of his muscles working, but caught sight of Freed's white - now dirt stained and crumpled - shirt now hanging over the branch of a nearby tree. With slightly furrowed brows, he turned towards Freed to demand an explanation, only to see him kicking off his pants and placing them right next to his shirt, leaving him only in his boxer-briefs. His tight and eye-catching boxer-briefs.

Before the thoughts could even form about how Freed was wearing his underwear to perfection, Gajeel forced his memory back to the night before. About how he'd acted and how he had tried to make Gajeel feel like crap just to feed his own ego.

Freed had lost a wrestling match, and had thrown a fit about it. Gajeel couldn't respect a man like that, and he couldn't find a guy hot if he didn't respect him.

"The hell are you doing?" Gajeel demanded.

"If we're going to swim, then I'd rather not get my only set of clothes wet when it could be avoided," Freed explained, and Gajeel was momentarily thankful that he didn't look ready to remove his boxers. He couldn't think like that, so spoke again.

"Cause you can't stand a bit of discomfort, right?" Gajeel grumbled.

"No, I just don't see the point of making things worse for myself to prove a point," Freed looked pointedly towards Gajeel when he said that. "The water is clearly going to be cold and the weather doesn't look like it'll improve, meaning it'll be a struggle to dry ourselves already. The fire can only do so much, and we'll either have to lounge around in wet clothes out of stubbornness, or remove them and wait for them to dry while we ourselves get dry. That extends the time we'll be cold, making us both uncomfortable and wasting time before whatever inane task you've got next. That, coupled with the fact that this is flu season, seems like good enough justification for avoiding a stupid problem."

Gajeel could hardly argue the point, so instead he mumbled, "We ain't gonna be lounging around."

"What an astute and well thought out argument," Freed deadpanned, and Gajeel wanted to punch him again. He didn't, instead averting his eyes as Freed started to stretch his arms. "Nobody is forcing you to do the same if you're shy, Mister Redbox. To me it just feels like the reasonable course of actions."

Rather than speaking, Gajeel turned his back. He also removed his shirt and boots; but he wasn't getting half naked like the pervert next to him.

Calling him a pervert was maybe a stretch.

He pushed back that thought, as well as the thoughts of how damn good Freed's ass looked in those boxers - Gajeel was only a man, and he couldn't deny what he saw - and instead got himself into line with Freed. The race is what he should have been focusing on, not the fact that Freed didn't look half bad when he was taken away from his pampered and luxurious sheen. Tangled hair and the odd spec of dirt really did wonders for the pretty-boy.

The race. Focus on the race. And the fact the guy couldn't deal with a loss.

"Ready?" Gajeel asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "Go."

He lurched forward before he could think, sprinting through the undergrowth of the the forest as he ran towards the lake. Years of guild work in places like this had allowed for the perfection of running through the forest; you kept alternating your gaze between the ground and on the trees.

Usually he would have turned his skin to iron so he wouldn't have to focus on the branches in his way, but he was trying to prove a point. He winced a little as a sharp end to a twig scraped against his cheek, far too close to his eye, but didn't let it stop his pace. He could hear Freed's breathing very close behind him, so evidently Freed knew how to run through a forest as well as Gajeel did, so he couldn't let up for a moment.

When they were out of the forest, there was a short run towards the lake with more space than there had been in the forest. Gajeel forced himself to run as fast as he could, not wanting to let Freed overtake him now he had the width to do so. And not having a view of the man's body might-

The race. The way he'd acted the night before. Focus dammit!

If telling himself wasn't enough to cut off his libido, the face first plunge into freezing, dirty water certainly did. He let out a shuddering gasp when his head broke the surface, but couldn't allow the ice-cold water to stop him. He quickly started to swim, smirking a little when he realised he still had the lead.

The smirk died when Freed overtook him pretty damn quickly.

Gajeel saw nothing but ripples of water ahead of him, and gritted his teeth as he tried to speed up. He was a man built to brute force his way through a problem, while Freed was apparently more agile. He should have expected that, but he had wanted to leave Freed in the dust during the run so it wouldn't be an issue.

All he could do now was swim to the other shore of the lake, pissed off.

When he reached the end of the lake, he saw Freed resting on one of the large boulders that made up the shoreline. He was panting, soaking wet and still wearing those fuckimg boxers. When he saw Gajeel haul himself up from the water, he looked towards him and smirked.

"That didn't end up how you wanted, did it?"

"Shut up," Gajeel snarled. "Get yer clothes, we've got a busy day."

When Freed laughed, Gajeel nearly pushed him into the lake again.

——

"So, you think ya can beat that?"

Gajeel had more than got his confidence back now, and he was smirking at Freed with his arms flexed intentionally.

Both he and Freed were stood at the bottom of a steep hill, where the dead tree-truck sat. Gajeel had explained this challenge; they would both have to push the tree-truck up the hill as far as they could. The justification for this exercise was that Freed might one day find himself in a situation where he was trapped without his magic and needed to force his way out with his strength alone, and the exercise was meant to simulate that. Freed clearly saw that Gajeel just wanted to push his limits, but he didn't say anything.

This was the last task of the day. They'd already attempted the tree climbing that Gajeel had planned, and Freed had been obnoxiously good at it. Gajeel had been faster, but they both knew that he had a natural advantage because he'd had practice. Gajeel could hardly boast about being slightly better then Freed at something he had done many times and Freed was new to.

Gajeel had just finished his attempt at pushing the trunk, and was fucking delighted when he saw he'd beaten his own personal record. This was how he would regain his control over things.

Freed didn't stand a chance.

"I'm sure I'll be a worthy contender," Freed stated, walking towards the tree-trunk. "Which is a feat, I expect, given that you've clearly been setting me up for failure from the beginning."

"Maybe if you weren't so predictable then I wouldn't have been able to plan things out so well," Gajeel grunted.

"So you predicted that, in everything other than tasks that relied solely on physical strength, I have exceeded your expectations and beaten you in completion, I suppose?" Freed taunted quietly as he positioned himself against the tree-trunk. "I expect you did all of this simply to prove your inferiority."

"Inferiority?" Gajeel scoffed. "You ain't done anything but bitch about this because it's not going yer way."

"Not going my way?" Freed laughed, turning from the log and looking at Gajeel again. "You are joking, aren't you?"

"All you've done is make yer little comments about how you don't think it's fair," Gajeel challenged, taking a step forward and glaring the other man down. "And when ya lose, you throw a tantrum."

"I throw tantrums," Freed demanded, sounding equal parts exasperated and annoyed. "As opposed to you, who has been acting perfectly rational throughout this? It hasn't escaped my attention that you clearly see Makarov's initiative as some sort of personal affront to you, and you have apparently seen it fair to force all of these grievances onto me. So for you, a man who has been as close to stomping his feet and wailing as his pride allows, to complain about me throwing a tantrum is practically laughable."

"You think that's what I'm doing?" Gajeel took another step forward. "I'm doing this because yer clearly a spoiled little city-boy and I ain't associating myself with something who can't-"

"Can't what?" Freed snapped. "Can't make a shelter? Can't start a fire? Can't swim across a lake faster than you? Because I've done all of this despite your clear hopes otherwise. Or would you rather judge my worth as a mage by seeing me push a dead tree up a hillside, or to wrestle you without the weapon I use nor the magic I wield? Because, Mr Redfox, if you need to force such strict parameters to best me and you consistently lose, then perhaps your plan isn't a good one."

Fuck, he wanted to punch the guy. Fully encase his fists in iron and beat the shit out of the guy. It would be damn satisfying to see the guy knocked out, while the smugness straight out of him.

"Nothing to say?" Freed continued, a patronising look on his face.

"Fuck off," Gajeel growler, turning around and going to walk away. Before he could take a step, a wall of glowing runes shot up in front of him, blocking his exit. He turned to Freed with an expression of fury. "What the hell is your problem?"

"You," Freed snapped, and magic seemed to emanate from him.

He looked feral in that moment, with all the shields of fancy clothes and smart ass words replaced by anger and magic. His shirt was billowing in the magic induced winds, and the glare on his face was accentuated by the purple swirling in his eye. Fuck, he looked like a man on the edge and it shot straight to Gajeel's dick. Freed was a gentleman gone wild, and if that wasn't one of Gajeel's most well-buried fantasies then he didn't know what was.

The expression was gone as quickly as it came, and the magic swarming Freed's eye fell away. For a moment, Freed looked worried, but he was talking again before Gajeel could understand why he looked like that.

"Neither of us are happy about this, but at the end of the week we have to fight side by side, and the biggest issue we have right now is that we can't stand one another," Freed seemed more calm now, as if the bubble of anger had burst. What the hell had caused that? "So, either you plan something that might make us work together, or at least respect one another, or we both stop trying and say to hell with the consequences."

Gajeel didn't say anything. It felt like the rug had been pulled from under him.

Suddenly, a wave of shitty realisation hit him. Freed had a point when he said he was taking his anger out on him, when he really just didn't want to do the damn training thing at all. He wasn't being fair.

"I think that's enough," Freed sighed. "I'll gather my things and go home. You needn't contact me again."

Freed was walking away before Gajeel could react, and the walls of runes fell around them both. A horrid feeling of regret filled Gajeel, and he quickly jogged to catch up with Freed, who was clearly ignoring him. He kinda deserved it.

"Shit, Freed, wait," He placed a hand on the man's chest, and Freed glared at him. "Yer right, I ain't been fair," It wasn't a fun thing to admit. "I had some ideas about who you were, and didn't wanna let ya prove me wrong, even when you were kicking my ass," He sighed. "And yer right about me wanting to fuck you over, that's why I did this shit, and it wasn't right. That was shitty of me."

"Well, I can hardly blame you for judging me. We were both guilty of that," Freed admitted. "And thank you for admitting that. But I don't see how we could suddenly become a cohesive, effective team, we're hardly compatible."

Gajeel sighed, Freed had a point.

But if a Fairy Tail mage was good at anything, they were good at being stubborn.

"What if we have a fight?" Gajeel proposed, and Freed frowned at him. "Talking like this ain't gonna get rid of the attitude we have for each other, right? You're still pissed at me, and you said some things that made me wanna sock a punch in yer jaw. Maybe having the chance to beat the shit outta each other might break through the attitude problems we have."

"That's not too bad an idea," Freed admitted, glancing at the evening sky for a moment. "It would be cathartic to make you scream."

"Buy me dinner first, city-boy," Gajeel teased before he could think. Freed all but gaped at him, and Gajeel was speaking to fill the silence before he could stop himself. "Y'know, I ain't ever seen you fight before. Don't know how you work."

"Then I have the advantage," Freed grinned slightly. "And you're voluntarily giving it to me. Perhaps you really are repentant."

"Nah, just wanna kick yer ass without you having an excuse."

"We'll see," Freed smirked, and Gajeel found himself grinning back.

#Gajeed #Freedjeel #Freed x Gajeel #freed justine #gajeel redfox #fairy tail #fanfic #writing #canon divergent #multi chapter #chapter three #word count: 3.6k

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4aloysius-porteu · 3 years

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Tear In My Heart

pairing: kirishima eijirou x vigilante reader

wc: 1908

genre: songfic, angst, fluff

warnings: mentions of blood/injuries

tear in my heart - twenty one pilots

Kirishima

It was nighttime when I was ordered to guard in Hosu City, in patrol of villains making crimes around. Yes, I'm a certified hero now and I just finished taking down a criminal with a laser quirk, and I'm on the way to my agency to turn over him.

"That's Red Riot for you!" Tetsutetsu greeted me while the police restrained the criminal. We did their usual brofist, "You alright, bro?"

"Why woudn't I be? I'll stay here for the whole night to catch and drive the villains away."

"Anyway, Fourth Kind said you can go home now. The others and I will take over here. Get a rest, man! See you tomorrow!"

"Oh, yeah, see you!" He patted my shoulder as I left to change clothes.

Sometimes you gotta bleed to know That you're alive and have a soul

I finished changing, then I got outside and saw my friends.

"Hey, Kirishimaaaa!" Ashido and Kaminari loudly greeted.

"Hey guys! You finished in your shift? Where's Sero and Bakugou?" I asked.

"Yep! They're on the morning shift now so we won't we seeing them in this month," Ashido replied.

"Dude, your Hero name is so famous around these areas! You sure are close with people after you rescue them, I'm envious!" Kaminari said.

"Don't be, Kaminari. Maybe someday you'll get known too."

"I hope so."

But it takes someone to come around, To show you how

After a litte chitchat they bid a goodbye and I got inside my car and drove it in a moderate speed. When I stopped in the red light, I remembered something important. I haven't texted hy girlfriend for the whole time!

She's the tear in my heart, I'm alive She's the tear in my heart, I'm on fire

Crap, I hope she's not mad at me!

I grabbed my phone and my fingers typed quickly, apologizing for not talking with her. She didn't reply, which made me more worried. I sighed and continued driving.

She's the tear in my heart, Take me higher, than I've ever been

Few minutes later, I still didn't get a reply. Maybe she's really angry, so I made my way to her apartment. While driving, I smiled when I suddenly remembered the first time we met. It was a year ago, in my first hero job.

A car accidentally crashed on her while she was crossing a road, severely injuring her leg. I was on the patrol so I rushed to rescue her. I took her to the hospital and visited her everyday till she gained conciousness. And when she did, God knows how I was caught in her beauty.

The songs on the radio are okay But my taste in music is your face

Since her parents were already gone and her older brother was working overseas, I was the one who took care of her, other than the hospital nurse. We soon got closer and talked with deeper topics, like our chilhood, families, and random experiences. It was really fun to be with her.

When she got better and was able to get out of the hospital, we exchanged numbers, and texted almost every hour.

But it takes a song to come around, To show you how

I also took her on a lot of dates, before we admitted our feelings to each other and her and I became 'we'.

I was taken back to the reality by my phone beeping. At last, she replied! Although, her text is just composed of a location that was 2 blocks away from me. I decided to go since I trust her and I think she's already there.

She's the tear in my heart, I'm alive

I drove on the way but all I found was a dark alley. It was very quiet and shady, why would my girlfriend lead me here? I walked inside, but I came up with my fighting stance in case something bad happens.

"Hello? (Y/N)? Are you here?" I called.

She's the tear in my heart, I'm on fire

No response. I continued to walked, until a figure showed up above me. I fought to restrain it, but I feel like its fighting back so desperately, so I decided to back off a bit and let it pin me on the ground.

She's the tear in my heart, Take me higher, than I've ever been

It was panting hard, but still managed to restrain my wrists. I looked at its face, and when the light of the moon showed up, I instantly recognized her face.

Than I've ever been...

"K-Kirishima?" She weakly said.

"(Y/N)!" She let go of my wrists as I got up and held her in my arms, "Are you okay? Hey!"

Than I've ever been...

"I think I'm alright... but I'm glad you came."

"What happened?"

Than I've ever been...

"K-Kirishima... I'm tired. I-I can tell you when we get to your place..."

I quickly carried her to my car and laid her down for her to rest. Now, I noticed that she has wounds and bruises on her arms, and her stomach has a blood stain. I have a hunch on what happened, but I'll ask it to her later.

You fell asleep in my car, I drove the whole time But that's okay I'll just avoid the holes So you'll sleep fine

I started to drive, but the road holes makes it hard to drive properly. (Y/N) might wake up because of my recklessness, so I decided to drive slowly.

I'm driving here I sit, Cursing my government For not using my taxes To fill the holes with more cement

I observed her sleeping figure at peace before taking my focus on the road. There's a lot of road holes, I wondered where it came from, since its still fine when I passed here. Maybe its the villians' or hero's battle fault.

You fell asleep in my car, I drove the whole time But that's okay I'll just avoid the holes So you'll sleep fine

I'm driving here I sit, Cursing my government For not using my taxes To fill the holes with more cement

When I reached my house, I parked my car in my garage and carried her out of the car then inside. I laid her on the bed and get a medical kit to treat her wounds. It wasn't too deep or serious, but its many. I raised her shirt, but first I promised not to do inappropriate things, and proceeded on treating on a medium sized cut on her stomach.

Sometimes you gotta need to know That you're alive and have a soul

I covered her wounds and cuts with a clean gauze and band aids, and that's when she woke up.

"Oh, sorry to wake you up, (Y/N). You can go to sleep now. I treated your wounds now, don't worry."

I was about to stand up and get her a blanket, but she pulled me back and hugged me from behind.

But it takes someone to come around, To show you how

"(Y/N)? Is there something wrong?"

She muttered, "Stay..."

I did what she said and sat beside the bed. I sighed and asked her again.

"You're still continuing your vigilante activities, aren't you?"

She's the tear in my heart, I'm alive She's the tear in my heart, I'm on fire

"Yes."

"Are you mad at me?"

"Yes."

She's the tear in my heart, Take me higher, than I've ever been

"I'm sorry for not texting you for the whole day, but (Y/N), I told you to stay out of danger! We've been through a lot of arguments here! First off, there are strong villains scattered everywhere, and second, you don't have a Hero License, so the authorities can arrest you when they caught you! You're between the two parties, and when you mess up, none of those sides will help and rescue you!"

A sound of a slap echoed through the room.

My heart, is my armor She's the tear in my heart

She replied, sobbing, "So are you underestimating me? Do you not believe and trust my abilities? And what do you mean that none of those two sides will help? You are on the heroes' side aren't you? Won't you come and rescue me if I'm about to get killed? Will you forget me for your commitment in the Heroes' society? God damn it, Eijirou! I'm being a hero in my own way because the society rejected my ideology and ability!"

She let go of me and cried. I felt bad for making her cry, but I just had to tell those things.

"I thought you understand me, Eijirou, but now I felt that you're just the same as the others! I hate you, Eijirou! I really hate you!"

She's a carver, She's a butcher with a smile

I moved to reach her but she slapped my hand away. That didn't stop me though, I still hugged her, even if she's struggling against my grip.

"Let go of me, Eijirou! I'm leaving now!"

Cut me farther, Than I've ever been

She beat my chest multiple times, but I refused to loosen my embrace. I held her tight and forced her against my chest, trying to stop her from moving.

"I'll never let go of you, (Y/N). You know that well."

Than I've ever been...

She ceased, but she gripped the sleeves of my shirt, tugging it and continued crying in it. I patted her hair and back.

"I just said those things because... I was worried. I don't want you getting hurt. I'm sorry for being hard on your feelings, (Y/N). I'm really sorry."

Than I've ever been...

"I-I was worried too. You didn't message me for the whole day. That wasn't your habit, so I went out to find you but I messed with some villains who was breaking in the bank in my way." She managed to say between sobs.

Oh, than I've ever been...

I kissed her forehead, "I'm glad you're safe."

"But Eijirou... about earlier. Aren't you going to come to me when you're stuck in your hero work and I'm in terrible danger? Please, answer me honestly."

My heart, is my armor She's the tear in my heart

"Of course not. I promise with all my heart that you'll be my first priority. I know I'm the only one, and once I'm not around you anymore, promise me to take care of yourself, okay?"

You turned away, "Don't say that. It scares me."

"Just do it."

"I promise not to make a fuss and take care of myself when Kirishima Eijirou is not around anymore."

She's the tear in my heart, She's a carver

"I hope that time won't come." She mumbled.

I held a stray strand of her hair and tucked it beside her ear, then placed my hand on her cheek, "You're so beautiful, (Y/N). I can never think of losing you."

She's a butcher with a smile, Cut me farther,

"I love you, (Y/N)."

"I love you too, Eijirou."

Than I've ever been.

I leaned in and gave her the most passionate kiss I can give, and at that time, I feel very happy and secured with her. I could tell she feels the same because tears stopped flowing from her eyes.

Loving makes you feel alive, after all.

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starbide · 4 years

Text

Inspiration below. The following is a work of fiction.

'Six years,' I thought to myself walking down the road. It had rained earlier that evening, but by now the clouds were long gone. The pavement shimmered in the waxing moonlight, still slick with the water of those vanished clouds. I would not slip; the road was mostly level as it lazily stretched down the gentle hill behind me, and the streetlamps cast in gold what the moon would otherwise leave dim. The world was silent.

'It's hard to believe I've been gone that long,' I continued, step by step. Six years since I'd moved away for my career. Six years since I'd left my family behind. 'Left her behind,' I smirked to myself, passing a large bush on my right. Houses stood dark and serene on either side, all daily activities complete and put to rest. No cars joined me on the waterlogged street, preferring the concrete comfort of their driveways and garages. I approached and passed under another hazy lamp.

It was cool out, a gentle breeze brushed past the wool of my jacket without raising a single goose bump. I paid it no mind; I was always a bit warmer blooded than others in my circle. My best friend for most of my school years couldn't understand my ability to wear shorts comfortably year-round. 'Those were the days,' I mused, thinking back to the last time we'd seen each other. It had to be more than a decade at this point, long before I'd moved north for work and expanded my wardrobe to include legwear longer than my knees.

I reached an intersection and paused. Four ways, no direction more enticing or foreboding than the next. A lamp at every corner, and the bus station deserted save by its sign across the diagonal. The station I'd waited at patiently every morning for that bright yellow school bus, before I'd ever met my old bestie. It was just me and one other kid, a rather scrawny looking boy who had been in most of my elementary grades but with whom I'd never really gotten on with. We'd shared classes, teachers, and the occasional pencil or marker, but never played together outside of academia. He'd moved away much longer than a decade ago. Now I was really delving into my memory, faded as it was with time.

I checked my phone: 11:57 PM in small white font. My first night back home, I should be exhausted. This wasn't my normal time zone and airplane seats aren't exactly memory foam, but I'd found a second wind after dinner and took to the night after my folks had gone to bed themselves. Sure, I'd been physically gone for six years, but we'd stayed in touch off and on since I'd left. Maybe five months back was our last video call. We'd talked about me taking this trip, now that things had settled down and my life was much more under control. Things had been wild for a while, and if all went according to plan at work things would become wild again not too far down the line. Which reminded me, I needed to make another appointment when I returned home. Couldn't go running out of my prescription again.

A brief twitch of motion caught my eye, and I peered down the leftward lane. One of the bulbs had burned out a few dozen meters down, and in this larger pool of darkness something had moved. At least I thought it had, but my eyes could be playing tricks on me with the shadows. One dark spot moving erratically through a larger, differently dark spot wasn't exactly proof of anything. But of course, my heartbeat quickened regardless. Base human instinct, I suppose. Spot a motion in the dark, prepare to act to either fight or flee.

That hallucination had triggered something else in me though. A memory, unconsciously bidden, rose up behind my eyes. That kid, the little one I'd shared a bus stop with for years, I did not recall being nice to often. Many times, I'd engaged in common teasing, and he always took it personally. A couple times he'd even cried, but I'd never gotten in much trouble for it. A different time I supposed. That sort of behavior wouldn't fly nowadays, and that's good. I felt a bit sick thinking back about it, as it was now clear I'd been a bit of a bully. What it hadn't been was a wake-up call for my parents, who didn't get me the help I had so desperately needed until much later in my teens. I was better now, better enough to see what I'd done back then was very wrong. I couldn't remember all of it, but that boy's tears had stuck with me. I wonder what happened to him?

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts and calm my pulse, I opted for the path in front. This route would wind close to the park, after a couple turns beyond my current field of vision. Crossing the street, I didn't even bother looking left or right, as the night was so quiet and empty, I could hear a car coming from miles away, if there were any to hear. A rock lay in the far side gutter; I kicked it just to give my ears some stimulation. It knocked against the cement curb and bounced across puddles thin as saran wrap to a rest. By then I'd already forgotten about it and left that intersection behind.

Another thought was creeping up from my subconscious, this one more distasteful than the last. I'd left a girl behind when I moved for work, and the breakup hadn't been pleasant. She'd been very upset, naturally, and felt betrayed I was abandoning her like that. Abandoning. It had been her word, not mine, but with the clarity of distance I could see she was right. It had been years since I'd considered how we ended, and I wasn't sure what spurred those thoughts just now, but after what I'd done to her, I could accept she was right.

Still though, rounding the first turn, my leaving her should have been a good thing. Now that the floodgates of memory were open, I may as well dive right in. She'd been so hurt by my sudden departure because I'd systematically isolated her from her friends and much of her family too. She'd grown more and more attached to me, and I'd encouraged that through some particularly devilish means. I didn't know about the term 'gaslighting' at the time, but that was a polite way of putting it. I'd been very proficient at psychological manipulation back then, and my desire for control over her life could have consumed us both. At the end, she'd only had limited contact with her sister, who had been rightly concerned about her but too terrified of me to do anything to stop me. Looking back, I can't blame her. I now believe it was good that I left when I did. I hope she realized the same, though I haven't heard from her since.

Now the road turned left, arcing gradually around a thicker cluster of trees. This walk was turning out to be less relaxing than I'd hoped. The smallest things seemed to be dredging up thoughts and old memories in me, and none of them were painting me in the best light. Being my thoughts, maybe that was the best light I could possibly be presented in. Maybe their memories of me, the version of me still living in their mind, was far worse than I could imagine on this unassuming suburban night. I'd read somewhere that we're all the hero of our own story, and of course the hero never thinks they're the villain. But I'm sure that's what I am in at least a few people's stories. I'm starting to feel like the villain in my own.

Opening up ahead of me is the park, and the wide-open fields I remember so well. This area is less well lit, with streetlamps only illuminating the edges of the grass and allowing the moon to bathe the world in dead white. In reality, this is only sunlight reflected, but from the moon it feels much less like the bright star that gives this planet life. Like Luna itself, it feels cold and impersonal, like it wouldn't actively try to end my life but also wouldn't even notice if I merely faded away into the ether. I'd had some trouble with those thoughts as well over the years, before I got help. And now, rushing back to me, I remember they were also why I lost my best friend.

He and I had been out for the evening, playing some game with a few other friends. The game had ended, and we were walking home together when a car had rushed past us. Neither he nor I were injured, but it had been close and the driver had continued on recklessly. After it rounded the corner, we'd both heard a large thumping sound, followed by the rapidly diminishing roar of its engine. After a quick glance between us we'd rushed around the corner ourselves to see a big yellow dog crumpled up in the drain. Not losing a moment we hurried up to it, but we needn't have rushed. It had most likely died on impact, before we even saw it.

My friend had knelt down next to it to try and save it, even though it was hopeless. He must have known, but it's only natural to want to help another life. At least, it is for me now, and it was for him then. I remember him crouched over the dog, tears in his eyes when he accepted what happened, and then he looked up at me. His tears ebbed and his face froze in fear at what he saw, but he couldn't say anything to me at the time. We walked home in uncomfortable silence after that, and said a short awkward goodbye. Truth be told, that's the last time we spoke to each other in person.

Thinking of the next part, I felt a chill run deep into my core. I remembered now what he told me, over text message later that night. He'd bent over the dog and been so distraught because he knew it. He'd checked the tag to be sure, but it was his neighbor's dog that he'd grown up playing with. I think he'd even muttered its name a couple times, but I'm not sure. But when he looked up at me, he said I had the biggest grin he'd ever seen. The look on my eyes was not maniacal, as some would think, but dead, not present. As if the dog dying had brought out a whole new face in me, as if the lights were on but nobody was home, and yet the lights still wanted to kill you. It had terrified him, and it was all he could do not to sprint from me that moment without looking back. I don't think he ever knew how right he'd been back then, something that took me years to realize and longer to overcome.

I quietly walked to the center of the field, as far from the streetlights as possible, and looked up. The moon provided none of the same dangers as the sun when staring straight at it, and I took a few moments to just gaze at it and let my thoughts sort themselves out. I'd been a monster in my childhood, a terror in my youth, before I found my doctor and we set out on a years-long journey to get me better. Any other time I'd have kept on that dangerous path, ruining some lives and possibly ending others. That had all changed, thanks to my incredible fortune and a lot of hard work, but with the clarity of hindsight I could see just how close to the precipice I'd come. How I'd always be there in the minds of childhood mates and adolescent connections. And this was just what I could remember now. There was no way for me to know how many other monstrous versions of me still lived in any number of former classmates.

In the corner of my eye, I saw another twitch in the shadows. Jerking my head down, I followed the motion to the foot of the trees, the darkest spot on the field. This time there was no mistake; there was definitely an object moving there, slowly but surely. My heartbeat shot up and my throat swelled as I bent my knees and got into a defensive posture. The object lumbered forward, moving without haste but with purpose. When it came into the light, I was surprised to see a little boy with a scratched-up shirt and messy brown hair. Standing up in confusion, I was certain I'd seen him somewhere before. Step by step, I focused on every detail I could make out in the gloom, before it hit me like the car that last night walking home.

That boy was dressed, to the letter, the exact same way I had on picture day in third grade. My hair had been an untamable brown mess, and even the cheap novelty watch was the same. I was more perplexed than anything now, as I couldn't understand for the life of me what a kid was doing in that field, at midnight, wearing clothes that weren't even made any more. That was until he spoke, and his voice froze my blood in its veins.

It was like whispers, floating around my head, and several voices all at once and all taking turns being the loudest. They were all his, but not really. His mouth had opened and his lips were framing the syllables, but it was my voice from so many years ago repeating every taunt, every tease, every foul nickname I'd ever given that scrawny boy who shared a bus stop with me. Who'd cried, not once or twice, but dozens of times. Who'd gone home often with scrapes and tears in his clothes personally inflicted by myself. I had terrorized him for years of his early life, and what I saw before me must be what I forever lived as in his memory.

But if that were true, then this kid in front of me couldn't be real. I had to be hallucinating again, I must have been more exhausted than I'd allowed myself to feel. He sure looked real, though, and his footsteps were matting the grass in a way I didn't trust my mind to make up. But the ghostly, strangled voices of my younger self crashing in waves into my ears gave the entire scene a surreal feeling, making the hair on the back of my neck stick up like electricity. I couldn't bring myself to step away, and I sure as hell wasn't going to walk forward to meet him. It. Whatever it was I was seeing, real or not.

Only a few meters away, he stopped moving. Swallowing bile, I could do little more than watch him as the voices continued to echo in my ears, unchanged by his distance all this time. Then I spotted another motion far off to my right, and then a third to my left. Glancing quickly between them, I determined that they were both noticeably older than the child before me, one by a few more years than the other. They too walked slowly towards me, bringing their own voices to the forefront. Despite the dozens of voices I now thought I was hearing, every word registered clearly in my mind. One was speaking about my old best friend and the dog, the other repeated every lie I ever told my ex-girlfriend before leaving. As if their mere presence in my eyes were not enough, hearing my old, hateful words repeated to me in my own voice almost made me vomit with fear and disgust.

They too, stopped approaching me at the same distance as the child. As they did, dozens more similar hallucinations emerged from the trees and surrounding neighborhood, all carrying their own chorus of hate and venom and bringing back new, abhorrent memories of my youth. Terrorizing a girl in my 4th grade class. Catching squirrels in my early teens and setting them on fire, then getting caught myself. Giving that kindergartner a major concussion on a dare, after my best friend had ceased speaking to me. Even one similar in age to myself now, though he brought words of loss and failure, and of betrayal to my parents. That must have been right before my breakthrough, with the doctor and an early test version of my current prescription. I was better now. I had to be. But why was I seeing all of this, all of these versions of me locked in the minds of everyone who I'd left behind in my life? My trail of destruction?

They had all stopped walking now, forming a tight semicircle around me. The voices still buzzed in my ears, but slowly they faded to an indistinguishable babble. I tried to speak, but my throat had caught a bubble, so I gulped fruitlessly and closed my mount again. The thoughts racing through my mind had no similar handicap, as my mind shouted repeatedly the same things. Who are you all? Why is this happening? What are you doing to me?

The version of me who gaslit my girl took a couple steps forward, as if presenting himself as the leader. I had no time to process what this might mean before he spoke, in a much clearer form than any of these hallucinations had yet. "We are you. We are you that you left behind, trapped in the minds of those you hurt, frozen in time from the moment you left us years or decades ago. We have had no life to live, no chance to grow and thrive, no possibility to leave the prisons of mind which you left us in, being tortured again and again by those you tortured without remorse and without recompense. We cannot sit by from behind our bars as you continue to enjoy the life you stole from us all."

"I didn't know I was doing this!" I cried, finally able to break the blockade in my throat. "I was a monster, I know that well now, and I've spent years trying to recover from the damage I've done!" I felt foolish, yelling out into the night at visions only visible to myself. 'All this work, all this progress,' I cried to myself. 'This will set me back months if not more, and I can only hope my medication doesn't fail like I have.'

The same me looked down at the ground and shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry, but you must know how little that matters to us. You've lived a life of freedom from any repercussions and locked us away to suffer in your place. You've flaunted that fact with your precious medical tools and until tonight, hadn't even remembered us or what you did to torture and imprison us. We are here now for the life that you stole from us, to end the torture you sentenced us to and walked away from yourself unscathed." He took another step forward, his face growing menacing.

"I don't know what that means," I cried, shaking my head as the tears started to drop. This was starting to feel all too real, and fear was expanding like a balloon deep into my core. "I don't know what any of this means. What do you want from me!?"

Another step. "We want your life," the gaslighter said mirthlessly. "We all want your life, the life wrongly denied us time and time again. And you will learn what it means to be ripped apart and put back together, over and over again. Tortured yourself for what you did to so many people in your life. You gave us to them to burn, to break, to grind down into dust and be restored only to do it all over tomorrow. You tortured them, and then you gave them us to work their revenge on, day after day with no hope of an end. And the most unforgivable of all was giving the youngest of you away to feel this pain the longest. Over two decades have the youngest of us been taken to pieces, shattered in mind and body and soul for your carelessness and your fleeting experiments in sociopathy. This will end tonight."

I could say nothing, the terror burning white on my face. If this was a hallucination, it was the worst one I'd ever had and I had no idea how I'd survive it. It was far too realistic, far too deadly for me to think of anything else, any of the tricks and tools my doctor had given me. What had happened to cause this? I swear I never missed a day on my prescription, and these memories... Where had they all been before? Why had I not been able to recover them and work through them with my doctor? Were they even real? Was this me, standing only a meter away now, real? Or was he only real in my mind, and if he wanted to hurt me would that distinction make a difference? I reached out my hand, reaching toward his arm slack against his torso...

And he reached out and took my wrist like a vice. Ice cold and unflinching, he held my arm up in front of me and closed the gap between us imperceptibly fast. "You may have many regrets. I have only one," he said in a low, bloodthirsty voice. "While there are dozens of us gathered here, dozens you sentenced to eternal damnation without a second thought, only one of us may live this life. I may not be the youngest of your victims, I may not give you the longest time in the torture you gave us, but I intend to fight with everything you have put me through these long years. Your life is mine."

As he growled in my face, a white-hot streak of terror shot through me and I pushed him back with almost reflexive strength. He staggered, rebalanced, then looked at me with cannibalistic hunger in his eyes. He panted twice, then screamed and lunged at my neck. With adrenaline now coursing through me, I turned and sprinted away from the gathering, hearing the pounding of footsteps deep in my brain. He had grabbed my arm. I glanced at it as I reached the sidewalk and saw a chalk white handprint etched into my grayish skin. The urge to vomit came back, but I managed to fight it down as I kept up a faster pace than I'd ever run before. The swarm of my past, tortured selves was hot on my heels, like starved dogs following fresh game. Any loss in my speed and I'd be eaten alive, or worse. I truly did not know what would happen if they caught me, and my mind was too far gone to even entertain the idea of hallucinations any more.

I rounded the next curve and thought the sound of the pack was a little quieter than before. It still sounded like pure rage and bloodlust, but with fewer voices than before. Thinking it was only a few stragglers being blocked by the trees, I kept up the fastest pace I could, not even feeling my feet hit the ground. Another hundred meters of straightaway and it was definitely growing less loud with each step. The roar was diminishing, no trees to hide the sound now, but it was still a roar. By now a cramp had begun to grow in my stomach, and no matter what I did I felt myself losing speed. Every few steps I could burst forward faster again, but I couldn't maintain the same rocket pace as before. To my ears, though, as my speed gradually fell, so did the volume of my pursuers. By the time I got to the intersection, it only sounded like a couple of me were still hunting, and I could count their individual footsteps. It was at this time I chanced a look behind, just to know what was still coming.

Right on my neck was him, the gaslighter. He grinned at me, his face less than a meter away. I felt that same shock explode throughout my body and I shot forward, faster than before if possible, fully terrified again now that I knew he and he alone was here for me. I kept running and running, past houses, lanes, and bushes. Still no signs of life from any houses, no cars rumbling down the road or creaking into place in a driveway. The night was as empty and uncaring as before, and only myself and the predator I had been broke the gentle midnight breeze. My legs thundered on, screaming in pain in their own way, but I didn't stop or look back again until I'd reached my family's old house a few blocks down.

Now truly running on empty, I turned back to face my hunter, but he was gone. Disappeared. Evaporated into the night, nowhere to be seen. The moon still hung high, reflecting some small percentage of sunlight down to me, and the streetlamps bathed the road and yards in amber light. He wasn't hiding from me, he hadn't overtaken me. There was no shortcut to the house, it was a straight shot from the park. He was simply gone, faded back into the night from which he'd come without a trace. If he'd ever really been there at all, and not merely a hallucination from exhaustion or medication or... I didn't even know any more. I just knew that he was gone, just gone, just gone.

"Hey, are you okay?" A voice called out to me. I jumped, but only in surprise. It was a familiar voice, but not familiar like my own. It sounded like my dad, and I heard large, calm footsteps walk toward me from our front door.

"Yeah," I said, although it was little more than a whisper. I buckled over, fell to my hands and knees, and felt the cramps and burning in my lungs catch up to me as the adrenaline faded away. I felt like vomiting, for the third time that night, but this time it was easier to fight the urge than before. I got some deep breaths in as I panted on the ground, slowly but surely recovering from my insane dash moments before.

My dad walked up in front of me, wearing the same well-worn brown leather shoes he'd owned since before I left. I didn't want to worry him about this night, and what I thought I saw in the park. Not when my recovery was going so well. Not when a lapse like this would mean months of work just to get back to where I was only an hour ago. "I'm okay dad, I just went for a walk. Then I saw how late it was and tried to get back as fast as I could. I guess I'm not the athlete I used to be, eh?" I tried to lift my head up to give him a weak smile, but still couldn't raise it much higher than his waist

He chuckled softly, and sounded a little strange. Still sleepy maybe, I guess I woke him up coming back here, and maybe I was screaming too. I don't know any more, I don't know what was real any more. But he knelt down in front of me after I dropped my head again, still exhausted, and said, "That's okay sport, I think we both know your real talents weren't on the field. I learned that lesson very well over the past six years."

#horror #creepypasta

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jedimaster941 · 5 years

Text

A Declaration of Lost Independence

As we get older, as we live life, like stone eroding under the power of crashing waves, our bodies break down. And as our bodies break down, we become more and more unable to do things. Sometimes not to the standard we once did, and sometimes we lose the ability completely. We lose things that bring us joy, and we lose things that bring us to life. Whether it be slowly or quickly, we all lose our independence. Aging is something, like it or not, we have all signed up for. We will get older, our bodies will break down, and we will lose our overall independence. It’s not ideal, but we understand it to be true.

For Chronically ill people, however, we can lose our independence rather suddenly, and it has absolutely nothing to do with natural aging. If someone aged 78 years has trouble walking, getting dressed, or going to the bathroom, very few would question it. But imagine you are 28 years old and you have the same difficulties. Think of how you would feel. In this article I will discuss the ways in which people with chronic illness lose their independence in the areas of physical, mental, social, and dietary, and the toll it takes on us when the things that we should be able to do becomes out of reach.

*This post features responses from chronically ill patients whom I asked…*

------------------------------

Physical

Loss of physical independence is the area that most people think about when illness takes over. It is at least the most public. People see wheelchairs, walkers, canes, crutches, and handicapped placards. They are also readily aware when someone takes a little longer to stand up, when they have trouble buttoning a shirt, or their handwriting becomes illegible. If someone gets to know a disabled person well enough they may also become aware of PIK lines, feeding tubes, and colostomy bags among others.

When someone is chronically ill/disabled their bodies are the primary victim of their disease. In one way or another, our bodies are malfunctioning. As my primary care physician said to me once, “We are all getting older, you're a just doing it a lot faster”. (If anyone is curious, I did not take offense, I appreciated that he acknowledged my illness and my lack of certain abilities)

Our independence is very much directly lost in these examples. We lose the ability of climb stairs, walk short distances, wash ourselves, cook food, and one I’d like to discuss a little more, exercise.

Doctors and online experts tell us we need to exercise. I can’t disagree with that. Exercise is important to keeping what we have left tip top. However, when we can’t climb stairs, walk short distances, or wash ourselves, how do you expect us to get the the gym to do some Cross Fit? I know for me, exercise of any kind hurts and has lasting effects. Some of my readers may remember how not long ago I walked a peppy poodle for half a mile and my legs hurt for three days after. This wasn't from being out of shape, this was due of my condition. Yes, exercise, but understand sometimes it's more harm than help.

I used to be a distance runner, a golfer, and could give the best piggy back rides. Now, due to Ankylosing Spondylitis, I can’t do any of that. And believe me when I tell you, that hurts me mentally as well.

Mental

With chronic illness and disability there comes a mental toll as well. Both in the areas of cognitive ability, and depression.

First, let's touch on cognitive ability which will then (as all of these sections do) we will move on to depression.

I imagine many of my readers are already well versed in the words and terminology used in the discussion of chronic illness. However, if you are new to this world, let me share a term that I, and all of us use probably on a daily basis: “Brain Fog”.

Brain Fog is exactly what it sounds like, a thick layer of fog on your brain. You know how hard it is to see through a covering of fog? Now, imagine that fog is in your head and your brain is trying to see thoughts, feelings, and ideas through it. It’s not easy and often things are lost.

Brain fog is caused by pain and the inability to actually shut down and rest. When people go to sleep their bodies and minds go into power saver mode to recharge, refresh, and do diagnostics checks. However, what happens when you drink caffeine, or you eat a big meal before bed? Well, if you can sleep, your body has now been given other things to work on. The caffeine makes your heart work harder, and your body needs to work to digest that big meal. So what happens? You don’t wake up rested because your body never actually got any rest. The same thing happens every night for people with chronic illness, but without the caffeine and steak dinner. In my case, with Ankylosing Spondylitis, my body is always working to fight off a foreign invader known as the lining between my joints. (I guess it’s actually a domestic invader) For most of us, because of constant pain, we can never get comfortable and even when we do sleep, we aren't actually resting. This lack of true sleep causes our brains to process at a diminished rate limiting our abilities to remember, problem solve, and function.

When I go to the doctor, I bring my wife. Not because I need a supportive hand, but because I need a partner and coach to help me tell the doctor what I need to say, and then remember what the doctor tells me. There have been times I have come home from an appointment solo and either forgot what treatment we discussed or, through my fogginess, made up something completely different because I could have sworn the doctor said she wanted to try bloodletting. (Or was it Methotrexate? I can’t remember) Although I love my wife, and I will always welcome her to join me at an appointment, I'm 37 years old, I shouldn't need someone to be my brain while the doctor checks out my body. While I am not depressed about this, this loss of mental and physical independence can also lead to depression.

I used to run, and I loved running. When my health got worse I took up walking long distance. However, only a few short years later, I couldn't even walk short distances without great pain and weakness. I was 34 the last time I walked with any kind of purpose. Far too young to lose so much ability. When I see people out running, or I drive past the local health club with overly large windows, I get sad longing for my glory days. When I watch American Ninja Warrior I’m sometimes heartbroken. Believe it or not, I used to be able to do stuff like that. It’s crushing to think that somebody actually has the freedom to wake up in the morning, pop up out of bed, and then think to themselves “Well, I think I will run 10 miles, shower, go to work, spend an hour at the gym, play with my kids, and then get 8 hours of restful sleep before doing it all over again.” Here I am thinking, “I hope I can get out of bed.”

Chronic illness can take a great toll on our mental state and subsequent independence.

-------------

Diet

With the chronic illness life, more often than not it seems, comes a list of dietary restrictions. 90% (not actual figures) of life comes from our gut. What we eat and drink. Other than breathing and IV treatments, it’s the only way anything gets into the factory known as our bodies. So, there is much stress put on us by our doctors, friends, family, TV, and the woman on the corner to eat right to better our condition. And not everyone is wrong. There are certain things that improve or worsen our condition. We will listen to the “experts” and try certain things. Excluding things like sugar, dairy, nightshades, and gluten. Or “fad diets” like Paleo, Keto, Vampire, or Atkins.* We might even try Kale! Many of us will try anything if it means we reduce our pain and get a little life back. But, the more foods we give up, the more independence we lose.

Personally this area has been my biggest struggle. Two years ago I went dairy free at the suggestion of a nutritionist, and one year ago I totally cut out sugar. And, I won’t lie, excluding both of those have been fantastic for me! I may not always notice the improvement, but if I happen to slip up on purpose of by accident, I certainly notice then. I am solid and confident in my sugar free/dairy free life, and for the most part I am happy.

However, this does not mean everything is butterflies and unicorns. I still struggle as I’m sure many many of my chronically ill brothers, sisters, and non-binary siblings do. Two examples: My birthday, and the ice cream aisle. On my birthday my co-workers wanted to know what to get me for my party. Typically the birthday treat is cupcakes and fudge. Hello sugar and milk! After much thought, I received the treat of peanuts and pickles. (And I didn't complain) However, it didn’t mean it didn't hurt. My co-workers needed to avoid yummy delicious treats because of my AS. They were supportive, but it didn’t mean I didn’t feel like a party pooper. As for the ice cream aisle, they have dairy free ice cream, and they have sugar free ice cream, but as a friendly store clerk told me, diary free & sugar free ice cream isn't ice cream. I'm out of luck there.

When it comes to dairy and sugar, I have lost my independence. People need to accommodate for me. Oftentimes meaning they might miss out on what they want. When my school does nacho day, frozen custard day, cookie day, etc for staff wellness days, I’m the only one not well. I could tell the people that sorry I can’t eat this, but that opens me up to feeling bad for making them feel bad.

Or when you need to find out if a restruant is accessible. Many would think that with all the handicapped parking spots all places would also be accessible. This is not always true. I have seen places where the "accessible" table is in a door way or up against a wall. The freedom to go to any restaurant one wants is never a guarantee.

When friends want to go out those of us with diet restrictions need to be “that guy/girl”. The one who has hard opinions on what we can eat. Ever stand behind the person at Starbucks who insists on soy milk and Stevia? Have you ever thought “Just take your coffee and drink it! You're holding up the line!” Yeah, that’s us, the ones holding up the line. Doesn't feel good.

We are jealous of those people who can eat whatever they want. Go to any restaurant, order anything off the menu, and even have dessert. This isn't about gaining weight, it's about being able to get out of bed in the morning.

Social

The next topic of how we lose our social independence ties into the three topics above and any others I have not mentioned. Humans are meant to be social. We aren't bears where we can just crawl into our cave and sleep for a few months. If any human crawled into a cave, nobody would be friends with them. Why? Because interacting is one of the standards of human life. We need other people! Sure, there are the mountain folk who go out, kill a deer, make clothing from it, light a fire and live their life in seclusion. (And there is nothing wrong with that) But, most humans need other people to cook our food, make our clothes, work on projects, drive us, and socialize purely for fun. The problem is, for many chronically ill people, getting out of the house and socializing sounds equal to climbing up and living in a mountain.

We are exhausted! Chronic illness takes a lot out of us! Every day can be a struggle to move, breathe, think, and complete other daily activities. Showering can be one of the most difficult activities for some. Doing laundry is pure hell! When most people hate it for the fact they have to do it, for me, folding makes me want to die! Seriously, I don't fully know why, but it hurts so much and takes so much out of me. After doing everything we have to do, we don’t have energy left for what we want to do.

I come home from work, my shoes come off, and I’m done! Very little is going to convince me to put my shoes back on and go out with friends when all I want to do is sleep. Because of this, many chronically ill people are forgotten. We bail on friends two or three times, and they just stop inviting us. But, then we have a good day, we are ready to accept an invite. Do we take it? No. Why? Because, we feel good now, we don’t know if we will feel good later.

Chronic illness symptoms can come in waves. We can have good days (or at least the start of a day) but then we drop. We don’t always know why we drop, but our feelings and mood are in no way guaranteed. So, we don’t risk it. It’s far better to be at home near our bed than 30 minutes away with a group of people you will need to apologize to for leaving early. Declining the invite or simple ghosting is far easier and less harmful to our psyche.

-----------------

Chronically ill patients lose all sorts of independence. We can not truly live free with AS, Fibro, EDS, POTS, Lyme, MS, ME or one of the many other chronic illnesses that totally sap us of life. We are not free do do as we like.

While others wake up and get to choose between running, biking, partying, fixing cars, eating amazing food, and/or playing with their kids. We wake up and.. well.. that's it.

In closing. If you know a person with a disability/chronic illness try to be understanding of their limitations. Don’t give them a hard time when they can't do everything you want them to. Our lives are hard enough dealing with all the independence we may have lost.

*I might have made up one of these diets

#spoonie #chronic illness #ankylosing spondylitis #chronicpain #chronic pain #lymedisease #eds #ms #fibromyalgia #freedom #independent #independence #sickness #food #depression #church #infertility #childless

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amillionmillionvoices · 6 years

Note

for the trope mashup meme: stranded due to inclement weather + i didn't mean to turn you on, hicsqueak :)

(also + bed sharing + huddling for warmth + big damn smooch for @matildaswan!)

tw: internalized homophobia, negative self talk

“You know,” Pippa says, clutching her blanket tighter. “I’ve heard the best way to keep warm is to climb naked into a sleeping bag with someone else who’s naked.”

Hecate chokes on her tea. “Pippa!”

Beside her in the floor in front of the fire, Pippa grins. Or at least, Hecate thinks she’s grinning - her face is buried in her blanket, eyes peering out, sparkling with mirth.

Hecate feels her cheeks burn, and for the first time in hours, she’s glad there’s no light. Nothing but the crackling fire to give her away, and she hopes Pippa will simply attribute her suddenly scarlet face to its warmth.

It’s not that the idea is unwelcome - they’re both still shivering, the storm having knocked out the electricity in Pippa’s cottage, it’s magical nature rendering their own ability to cast almost useless. Hecate has managed to keep the fire going, but beyond that, she’s drained and exhausted and it’s all too reminiscent of the last time she lost her magic, and almost her home.

She thinks Pippa knows this. Knows how easily she gets lost in her thoughts, and keeps the conversation light.

But the image is in her head now, the two of them, curled up together, and Hecate has to clench her jaw to keep from feeling…everything she isn’t supposed to feel.

Pippa is her friend—for the first time in 35 years, she feels comfortable saying that. Feels at ease in her presence again. Doesn’t feel like a burden.

It’s why she accepted Pippa’s offer in the first place, to spend a few days in her seaside cabin, just the two of them.

She thought she could handle it. Thought being around Pippa constantly wouldn’t make her chest ache or her fingers itch the way they used to. Wouldn’t make her stomach flip every time Pippa smiles or her breathing hitch every time Pippa brushes a hand over her arm or back.

Fool, she thinks to herself.

She’s been an utter fool, and now they’re here, in the dark with only a flickering fire for warmth, the howl of a treacherous storm the only sound, and Pippa, trying to lighten the mood. Trying to distract her. Trying to help.

And all she wants is for it to be real.

Pippa sighs and pokes her head out from the blankets, looking apologetic. “It was just a joke, Hecate,” she says. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

She is, uncomfortable, but for all the wrong reasons.

Hecate shakes her head. “It’s not that. I’m unsure how much longer I can keep the fire going.”

It’s not a lie, but it is a deflection, and Pippa frowns. “Are you alright?”

“Just tired.”

“Why don’t you try to get some sleep, and I’ll take over for a bit?”

“That won’t be necessary. Perhaps in a few hours.”

“If you’re sure,” Pippa says, and Hecate can hear the concern in her voice. Where it once made her bristle, now it soothes.

She tries to smile.

Pippa distracts her with a debate on modern magic, and she does her best to keep her tone equally light as she pokes fun at Pippa’s theories on modernized potions and chanting.

Pippa laughs and shoots back about traditionalism, but she notes with seriousness that she hates the way it lets some students slip through the cracks.

Hecate groans, thinking she’s talking about Mildred Hubble; but Pippa shakes her head.

“I’m talking about you.”

Hecate blinks. “Me?”

Pippa nods. “You control your magic like no one I’ve ever met,” she says. “But your teachers didn’t show you that. You had to learn on your own. We need teachers for all kinds of students, not just traditional ones.”

Hecate thinks about arguing - she wasn’t special, and therefore needed no special attention - but Pippa’s eyes are drooping and her smile is sleepy, so Hecate merely sighs.

“I suppose.”

Pippa clicks her tongue. “I’ll convince you one day,” she says. “After I sleep.”

Hecate snorts, but nods, and shifts so Pippa can extricate herself from their bundle of blankets. She doesn’t go far, curling up in front of the fire and pays the space next to her.

“You should lay down, too. It’ll be a long night.”

Hecate protests - more out of fear of being so close to Pippa than anything else - but Pippa pouts, biting her lip.

“It’ll be warmer if we stay close,” she says, and gives a dramatic shiver.

Hecate rolls her eyes, but she can’t say no - the thought of Pippa, cold and alone, is enough to make her give up her position, laying down on her back. Pippa doesn’t touch her, but she stays close, facing Hecate, hands under her head.

“Wake me when it’s my turn with the fire,” she mumbles.

Hecate nods, but Pippa is already asleep, expression evened out, and she looks so peaceful, so beautiful, Hecate looks away.

She can’t stand any of this.

Rolling over on her side, her back to Pippa, Hecate stares at a spot on the wall, and listens to the storm rage outside.

—

Hecate doesn’t sleep.

She can feel Pippa pressed against her back, warm and snoring softly.

It’s too much. There are thick blankets between them and yet Hecate feels like her skin is on fire. Feels every point of contact between their bodies, and she wants.

Wants to turn over and gather Pippa close. Wants to run her hands through her hair. Wants to touch her, and see her smile.

Sometimes, she wants Pippa so badly it hurts. A knot that forms in her chest and radiates pain through her muscles, her throat, her jaw.

She wants more. Wants lazy Sunday mornings and long walks hand in hand, more mirror chats and more weekends and more words.

She doesn’t feel like this often - can’t remember the last time she truly wanted to touch someone. To kiss someone. To feel someone else’s hands on her body. To feel vulnerable around them.

Around Pippa.

But it’s wrong. It was wrong when they were teenagers and it’s wrong now and she won’t, not for anything, jeopardize the friendship she has with Pippa now. Not even for her own happiness.

She’s so lost in her own thoughts it takes a moment before she registers the motion behind her. Hecate freezes, and turns to peer over her shoulder.

“Pippa?”

Pippa mumbles something in her sleep, and Hecate rolls over onto her back to better see Pippa’s face, to make sure she’s alright.

Before she has the chance, Pippa turns into her, tucks her face into the crook of Hecate’s neck and throws a leg over Hecate’s, flush against her, her arm slinging heavily over Hecate’s waist.

She snuffles a few times, then goes quiet.

Hecate freezes. Her body tenses, every muscle pulled taught and confused and she doesn’t know what to do. Whether she should wake Pippa, push her away, let her stay.

It means nothing, she tells herself.

It’s dark and cold and Pippa is merely seeking out the closest warmth.

The thought doesn’t comfort her. Instead, to her utter horror, it makes her eyes well up, tears clinging to her lashes that she refuses to let fall.

Pippa sighs, her breath floating over Hecate’s collarbone, and Hecate squeezes her eyes shut.

—

She falls asleep at some point, and wakes to complete darkness. The fire has gone out, and yet somehow, she isn’t as cold as she’d expect. Feels warm and somehow safe, despite their circumstances.

She shifts slightly and closes her eyes, thinking another hour or so won’t hurt; and then she feels something heavy on her leg, her chest, her shoulder.

Pippa.

She’s curled around Hecate even more so than when she fell asleep, half on top of her now, a hand on Hecate’s breast. For her own part, Hecate’s looped her arm around Pippa’s waist, holding her close, and despite the layers of clothes and blankets between them, Hecate feels her touch like a brand.

Her stomach knots and her throat goes dry and she blinks, tries to make out Pippa’s shape but she can��t. It should be oppressive, should, she thinks, be terrifying - she’s never liked being smothered, never been fond of so much physical contact, but this time it’s soft and warm and safe and Pippa.

And she loves her.

Loves her so much, sometimes Hecate thinks there’s no more room for it in her chest. No place else for it to go. It pressed against her rib cage and wants out, out, out but she never lets it. Keeps it close because if she doesn’t she’ll ruin everything, again.

She always ruins everything.

Always feels too much.

Wants too much.

Hecate bites her lip and squeezes her eyes shut, motionless in the dark, hyper aware of every place her body touches Pippa’s. Aware that it’s not enough.

There’s a sob crawling it’s way up the back of her throat and she forces it down, tries to take even, measured breaths but they’re shallow and shaky and every time her lungs expand she feels Pippa’s hand, so innocent, and yet it makes her stomach clench and her face feel hot with shame and desire.

It’s been so long she almost doesn’t recognize the wanting for what it is. But as Pippa snuffles in her sleep, nuzzling her nose against Hecate’s neck, she can’t stop herself from trailing her hand up and down Pippa’s spine. She tells herself its to calm and comfort, but she knows that in reality, she wishes. Wishes there were no barriers between them. Wishes she could feel Pippa’s skin against her own.

She sniffs, can’t quite stop a few tears from falling, sliding down into her hair. Her body shudders with the repressed sob, and she’s grateful for the storm that frowns out the smallest sound.

“Hiccup?”

Pippa’s breath ghosts across her cheek, and Hecate stiffens, her hand stilling, hovering an inch away from Pippa’s back.

“Everything’s fine, Pippa. Go back to sleep.”

Pippa shifts against her, a hand fumbling across her cheek, thumb brushing her temple.

“You’re crying.”

There’s a fizzle of magic in the air, and the fire lights, casting a dim glow, and Pippa is staring down at her, a worried frown on her face.

“It’s nothing,” she manages, forcing herself to sit up, to lose some of the contact with Pippa. “I’m fine.”

Pippa looks so concerned, but also sleepy - her hair tousled and eyes half lidded, the blanket askew.

“You don’t look fine.”

Hecate tries to smile. “A bad dream. Nothing of note.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Hecate shakes her head. “I’d rather not.”

Pippa nods, hesitates, then leans down and presses a kiss to Hecate’s forehead.

“For protection,” she says, pulling back with a sheepish smile.

Hecate’s heart cracks.

Against her own judgement, her hand reaches out and tucks Pippa’s hair behind her ear, feels a spark when her fingers brush her cheek.

Pippa stares at her, eyes wide, and she knows. She has to know, and Hecate yanks her hand away, tries to sit up, to untangle herself from the blankets.

“Hecate. Hecate, stop.”

She can’t, not until she’s away, out of this room and away from Pippa’s kind, suddenly understanding eyes and her warm hands, pulling her back.

“Hiccup—“

Hecate shakes her head. “Pippa, please, don’t—“

Two hands cup her cheeks and turn her head and there are lips over hers and it’s strange and uncomfortable and surreal because Pippa is kissing her, so light, but with so much intention. Hecate gasps, rearing back, and Pippa’s hands fall away.

“Hiccup?”

“You—why did you do that?”

There’s no way Pippa doesn’t hear the strangled emotion in her tone, the way her words crack and splinter, but she smiles, smiles so gently, and reaches for Hecate’s hand.

“Because I wanted to,” she murmurs. And then, even quieter, “I’ve always wanted to.”

Pippa stares at her and Hecate stares back, a million thoughts and doubts and insecurities jumbled in her head and just this once, just once, use your heart instead.

Hecate listens.

Lunges forward and holds Pippa’s cheeks in her palms and kisses her, and Pippa squeaks, then melts against her, mouth opening under Hecate’s and her arms winding tight around Hecate’s neck.

They kiss until they’re breathless, until Hecate’s hands are trembling and her skin is warm and when she pulls back far enough to see Pippa’s face, she’s smiling. Smiling so wide, fingers drifting through Hecate’s hair.

“Hiccup.”

Hecate shudders, at the warmth in her voice, the tenderness - she dares not call it love, but it’s something close to that.

“Pippa,” she tries. “Pippa, I—“

Pippa shushes her with a kiss. “I know.”

#hecate hardbroom #hicsqueak #pippa pentangle #the worst witch #catherine writes fic #and then they magicked a sleeping bag and done sex #Anonymous

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gracevilliers · 6 years

Text

Blood of my blood, Part 2 || Grace & Yamina

Yamina woke up first, if only because she was attuned to this. As a human she always woke up when dawn broke; as a vampire she habitually woke at dusk. She opened her eyes to find the Huntress - the Huntress no more still cradled against her chest. The blonde creature looked pale, paler than usual when she'd been mortal. A pang of sorrow and grief shot through Yamina's tired frame as she stroked her fledgling. All the pain and grief she'd felt losing her other children now poured directly into this one. Her new child. And Yamina realized then as she touched the golden hair that Grace Villiers was not just her only child now, but she would be her last. No more progeny after this one. Yamina would dedicate the rest of her immortal life doting on Grace and Grace alone.

Yamina In one way it was still partly revenge. To give this ex-Hunter everything a vampire had to offer as her Sire. To treat her with the utmost attention and groom her to become a perfect specimen of vampirism. To make her Hunter family and everyone who knew Grace for her vampire-slaughtering skills and tracking abilities, feel grief and mourning. Because in their human eyes, Grace Villiers the proud Hunter, was now an abomination. A beast who needed to be put down. Nothing more than the monsters she took pride in killing. Now she was the one they had to kill. Yamina hoped it would shatter their miserable, wretched beating hearts.

There was a knock on the bedroom door and a skinny old man entered, pausing in shock at the damage in the bedroom, at Yamina out of her coffin and holding an Englishwoman. "Mistress, is everything alright?" the thrall asked, bowing and servile in his concern. Yamina nodded. "Yes boy," she replied, although the man was almost 65. "Did you bring food?" The old man nodded and dry-washed his hands, scampering back out and returning with three different people, all tied and blindfolded and scared. One was a young woman from the Far East; the other a teenaged boy; the third was a burly pale red-headed man. Yamina looked at them and the pointed one finger towards the adult man. "Him. Is he from one of the prison ships?" The thrall nodded proudly, knowing he'd chosen well when Yamina smiled. "Leave him and return the others. My child will be waking up soon."

It felt like awakening from a dream. Slow and groggy, the world coming into view around Grace with a dim greyness. Her body ached, though in her barely conscious state, she couldn't consciously understand the reasons for it just yet. Half from the battle, and half from her transition. She was heavy-eyed and heavy-souled, as if her body carried the weight of what had been done to her before her mind could piece it together. Grace awoke, limbs languid and stiff, but immediately taut and tense when she realized someone was holding her. How ironic that such gentle and loving hands should have done such violence to her. She struggled, pulling away and scrambling to her feet. The room stank, she realized, her enhanced, starving senses picking him out. Like human. "What the bloody hell did you do to me?" Grace spat, knowing the answer before the words had even left her lips.

Yamina rose gracefully and seemingly with a lack of effort (although it did take some effort). "I think you know, Grace," Yamina replied. She straightened her gown and went to pick up her coat, pulling it on as if to shield herself from the mortal environment around her. "You're weak, my dear, but I admire your strength nonetheless. Are you hungry?" Yamina was sure Grace was starving. As a fledgling, hunger was a sensation that usually overtook everything else, consumed a vampire until they learned to control those baser instincts. With a good Sire of course, someone who could teach them to temper those uncontrollable impulses. "Do you smell him? Not the stink of his skin, but the blood underneath. Can you hear his heart?" She motioned languidly to the burly man, who was trying to break out of his bonds. "Wot's that then? Just a couple of whores trying to scare me then? I'll give ye something to be scared of, girls," the man growled, neck flexing.

Grace had never felt so many sensations before. The very air around her seemed to be a living thing. She could hear every movement, every rustling piece of fabric on the wind outside, every voice from surrounding patrons of the nearby marketplace, the rustling of coin in someone's pocket, and yes, the heartbeat, so loud that it overtook almost everything else. Where were her weapons? She glanced around for them, but the vampire must have disposed of them before Grace had collapsed. "I... I'm going to be sick," she answered, her physical hunger, her desperation, her need for blood, all at war with everything she had ever been taught, with her own disgust. "I'll kill you for this."

"You may," Yamina replied with a sad smile as she watched Grace with calm for careful eyes. She couldn't help the smile turning a little piqued at Grace completely ignoring the human. No concern for the man just yet, not while she was fully consumed in her own throes of agony and dilemma. "Or you may learn to accept it. Only the weak-willed cannot handle this gift. Only the weak-willed throw this gift away, like an unthinking fool. I do not think you are foolish, my child." The blindfolded man was clearly agitated by being completely ignored despite his leers and threats and he managed to shift his blindfold up past one eye, to see the two women. "Ey girlie," he tried to cajole Grace. "Why don't you get of yer lil negress servant here and let's you and me have some real fun, ey?"

Grace was even more annoyed by the vampire's calm and careful tone, the way she addressed Grace so simply and plainly, not even rising to agitation. She could at least have fought with her, argued with her, instead of simply reasoning with her like a sensible human. For a sensible human she was not. "Shut up, shut up," she hissed, repeating the words, trying to ignore her pounding senses, the sickening desire in her to feed. "I'm neither weak nor a fool, but I won't be a monster, either!" The ugly man was addressing her with ugly words. Grace scoffed. The more he spoke, the harder it was for her to ignore the pounding of his heart, the warm red liquid that flowed through his body. Did he really think she was in the mood to be flirted with? "Shut. Up." She repeated, snarling almost in spite of herself, grabbing him by the throat and squeezing.

"No, you are not a monster. You are so much more than that," Yamina said, all low and honeyed words. She was hungry herself, but like all good mothers she wanted her child to eat first before she'd take a single sip. "I understand what it must be like, to be trained as a Hunter. Born into it, told over and over that your cause was right, and your enemy was wrong. No questions meant no faltering. You were righteous; after all, your elders taught you this. Why should you ever wonder if your actions were wrong?" Yamina crossed to the other side of the room, giving Grace a wide berth to explore her own overload of senses and emotions freely. "That is not true strength, my dear. That is zealotry hiding behind violence." Yamina raised her chin, eyes flaring in some contained excitement as Grace turned on the man finally and acknowledged his presence with a threat of her own. The man looked confused and surprised. "A criminal, scum no doubt." Yamina came closer, turned the man's head to look at her. The vampire's eyes turned golden, mesmerizing. "Tell me boy - what was your crime?" Compelled to answer, the man replied, "I - I killed me wife. And me little girl. The screamin'...the screamin'...I liked it." Yamina stared coldly at him and then at Grace. "And this is what you used to protect? From me?"

Grace squeezed her eyes closed. She knew it was dark, and yet it didn't feel dark to her, an enhanced nocturnal vision disorientating her. She felt like she could no longer tell night from day. She shook her head. The words falling from her sire's lips were the words of the devil, she told herself. "Liar," she hissed. "You feed and you kill and you want me to do the same." But she wanted it too. The warmth of his skin was too much for her to handle. Grace wet her lips with her tongue. Her fingertips buried in his skin made her all the more conscious of his flesh, his blood. "You're disgusting," she said, unsure whether she was talking to him, the vampire, or herself. Perhaps it was all three. He was a killer. So why shouldn't she just sink her teeth into him? The very thought itself was the only encouragement she needed, and she slammed him against one of the very walls she had been thrown against just hours before, sinking her teeth into him and devouring him.

Yamina had nothing to say as Grace refuted her, tried desperately to hold on to that morality of the Hunters. Their code and their scripture and their belief, it was strong. It was admirable, really, if Yamina hadn't just had her children slaughtered by them like cattle. The man's way to handle this would be to break Grace down and build her back up, but Yamina Moire had rejected man's methods a long time ago. It was what made her so strong in the Vampire Councils across the continent - yet at the same time, it had made her vulnerable to the other vampire's fears and jealousy. Like scrabbling rats, just as Hunters described them. Just because she believed in the old ways did not mean she would adhere to the methodologies of men. Grace was her baby - and compassion for her children was always Yamina's way. Even if she'd hated Grace as a human, she felt that intrinsic Progeny-Sire bond forming between them now. Now, as Grace slammed the human filth against the wall and sank her teeth into his neck. "One bite now," Yamina coaxed her. "Try to get one good bite, and the blood will flow." As Grace drank though, Yamina picked up the man's wrist and bit into it as well. For as much as she loved her newborn daughter, the elder vampire knew she couldn't stay weak while Grace grew strong. To make that mistake would spell her doom. She fully believed Grace would attack her next.

Grace felt a wave of relief wash over her new body as the blood flowed into her. Her brain was less foggy, her muscles less achy, her skin clearer. The smell was intoxicating. She drank and drank and drank, listening to the soothing sounds of her sire's encouragement and for a moment, not even able to be angry about it or disgusted by it. She simply drank until the blood flowed no more and the man fell dead to the ground, like the wife and daughter he had put there. Yamina had been drinking too. She looked almost proud. Something in Grace was happy about that, their instinsic fond forming in spite of Grace's prior feelings. The contradictions melded together. "....What do you do with the body?" Grace wondered out loud.

Yamina gave a languid flick of her hand. "I have thralls to take care of that, they're very useful. Humans who want to be in the presence of vampires, entranced by is, by our beauty...." She came closer, motioned to a standing mirror so Grace could see herself. She was always stately and beautiful but now as a vampire and just fed, she was practically glowing, a preturnatural beauty. "It's a low-level compelling that keeps them loyal, all of it agreed upon. Some people are made to serve. Others, to enjoy the fruits of their labour." It was a very old-fashioned concept, that only recently in history was being questioned in the name of civility. But Yamina was old-fashioned in her ways. "My dear I must say, you aren't just my progeny, but you're also a prodigy. I've never had a child so controlled, so self-disciplined." Yamina supposed it was all that Hunter training.

Grace furrowed her brow. Thralls. The thought left distaste in her mouth. Too bad that distaste was overpowered by blood. She'd never drank something so delicious in all her life. And she hated herself for it. She'd just killed someone. She'd killed a killer. Why was it so different now? She told herself she killed murderers every time she went hunting. "You call this control?" She scoffed, regarding the body on the floor and gesturing to it. "He's dead. If that's what passes for discipline to you, I'd hate to see chaos."

"You would hate to see the chaos. Don't be a prude, child. Somehow I don't buy it. You've seen far too much to pretend you don't understand chaos, haven't stared it down and refused to accept it. I see it now, in the way you feed." Because Yamina had seen worse, far worse. Fledglings that were little more than rabid animals, tearing into flesh and soaking themselves in blood. Yamina loved all her children yes of course; but the animalistic ones always disappointed her a little. Not Grace though. "Come out into the night with me, see what new joy this world has to offer you in the moonlight. Unless you're still intent on murdering me?"

"Don't call me 'child'," Grace hissed through gritted teeth still coated in the man's blood. The fangs felt as if they took up too much room in her mouth. She had to focus to retract them. "I've seen chaos. When your kind drink the streets dry and leave bodies ripped open in the gutter. I kill your kind to stop that from happening, not be part of it." And yet, as angry as she had been when she had first awoken, she couldn't claim to want to kill the other woman. Sire bond, or something else, Grace wasn't sure, but it was infuriating. "I want to go home." She had only just asked to not be called child, only to sound like one. "But that will never happen, thanks to you. If you think we're going to be friends..."

"Did you kill his kind too?" Yamina asked, motioning to the dead criminal. "Why stop with vampires? If you believe so strongly that you have justice and righteousness on your side, why not kill anyone who disturbs your idea of 'peace'? You have the ability. Pray tell my dear - what do you do with vampires bodies, once you've destroyed their immortal life? Don't be so sanctimonious," she spat, unable to stop herself from getting a little worked up about it. "Humans are just as terrible if not worse. Oh, you have your laws and courts - but who do those rules truly benefit? His wife and child? He was still alive, he still got to sruvive. Until you made use of him. And such a good use too, because you deserve to be fed by his blood. Because you'll survive, even if you murder me. I don't believe you will never kill yourself, even now. Stick to your morals if you prefer. Kill only those who you deem to be killed, in all your worthiness. But make no mistake, my child - you have always been a killer. A killer of both innocents and murderers alike. That has not changed."

"Because vampires aren't human. There's a difference. Humans get hanged. They don't hang vampires at the Old Bailey because they don't know they exist. That only leaves us." She still spoke about them like they were separate, as if she wasn't one of them now, as if she was still a hunter. Grace stared at her sire through eyes damp with a mix of anger, hurt and frustration. She should have killed her. She should have been better. But she had failed. This was the price she would pay. Whether she would have the courage to kill herself in the sunlight, Grace wasn't sure, but she knew she couldn't stay here. "I will never be your child," she said, pushing open the doors to the balcony and dropping from the first storey with newfound strength and agility, heading out into the night.

#chatzy #paras #with: yamina

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