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multi-fan-dom-madness · 1 year

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Chapter 9: Ruyot (Second Chances - Hunter x reader)

Ruyot. n. history; the past.

Summary: To get the object for Cid, you agree to a trial. Maker knows you should have stayed on the ship.

Chapter Warnings: miscommunication as a plot point (sorry I should have tagged this sooner); truth serum; blindfolds; restraints; angst, angst, angst; if I missed any, please let me know!

Word Count: 5,329

A/N: This one's longer than the others so far, and I...don't know how I feel about it but! here it is! My work schedule changed so I work Mondays now, so I may not be posting Mondays anymore (probably Sundays instead) because I was able to write half of this at work but a) I won't be able to every week and b) I think it shows. Regardless, thanks as always for reading. Love y'all.

Read it here on AO3!

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The concerned and confused gazes of each of your squadmates burn into the sides of your face, your back, your entire being. For the space of a heartbeat, you feel like their looks are going to pick you apart at the seams, reveal your duplicity, and tear your entire world down. And then the moment passes. You exhale a breath you hadn’t realized you've been holding.

“Nav? What’s that mean, the Empire might have got you?” Wrecker asks.

Suqu has enough sense to at least appear embarrassed, slightly inclining his horned head, but he makes no move to wave away his words. You sigh. Hoping Suqu will catch on, you grab at yet another half truth.

“I.... The way Arien died. She rescued me from an Imperial prison.”

You shake your head to dislodge the tears pricking your eyes, but you still cannot meet any of their eyes. Instead, you focus on a patch of scrub grass by your feet. After a moment, the entire squad seeming to hold its breath, a warm hand rests on your shoulder.

You glance up at Echo’s gaze, his brows creased in worry. “You thought they might be coming after you.”

He doesn't pose it as a question, but you half-nod, half-shrug anyway. He squeezes your shoulder and then lets his hand drop, his gaze flicking to something behind you.

A gloved hand slips into yours, gently, and you don’t have to turn to know it’s Hunter. Exhaling a shaky breath, you grip his hand before looking up into his face. A sickening cold feeling has lodged itself in your throat, and the depth of concern in Hunter’s eyes makes you wonder if he can't sense the guilt chewing at your insides. He offers you a tight smile.

Suqu shifts his staff from one hand to the other with an awkward cough, clearing his throat. “I apologize for bringing up such a...sensitive subject, (y/n). I must ask, however, why you have returned to us. Are you perhaps here to visit Arien at last?”

You’d left Iridonia before Arien’s burial, and you haven’t even come close to considering coming back, not with a target on your back. But now that you’re here—stars, it’s almost like you can feel the pull toward her grave, the invisible tether tying you and your best friend together. Even so, you almost don’t want to see where she rests. You don’t want that kind of finality.

You swallow past the lump of guilt and survey the expressions on your squad’s faces. They range from sympathy to confusion to comfort—and you sigh again. “I’m still working for Cid.”

“I see,” Suqu says after a pause.

“And she’s asked for a specific object.”

“A cako pod.”

You nod as Tech says, “That would be the one.”

Suqu fixes you with a stare, one that sends a shiver skittering up your spine, before sizing up your companions. Hunter’s thumb strokes your hand as the silence stretches on, your heart pounding in your chest.

At last, Suqu nods once, slowly, as if to himself. “You can have one.”

“We don’t have much to offer in way of compensation—” you say

Suqu holds a hand up to interrupt you. “You can have one,” he repeats, “provided you can pass our trial.”

“We can crush any trial you put in front of us!” Wrecker boasts with an enthusiastic smile. Omega nods in agreement, a broad, excited grin on her face.

Echo and Hunter exchange a glance, and this time that glance includes you, to your surprise. They’re looking to you to gauge the wisdom of this mission. Stars, and you thought you couldn’t feel any more burdened by guilt. But you offer them a noncommittal smile and nod. You know how desperately the squad needs just one mission to go as planned.

“Alright,” Hunter accepts. “It’s not like we have much other choice to be perfectly honest.”

“Wonderful!” Suqu claps his hands together, and gestures for you all to follow with a toothy smile.

You groan internally, catching a glimpse of the mischievous glimmer in Suqu’s eyes. You’d always wondered where Arien got her sense of humor—if humor is what you’d call it—and now you understand. Are all Zabraks like this? With a shake of your head, you retract your hand from Hunter’s warm grasp, square your shoulders, and try to ignore the growing pit of uneasiness in your stomach.

Arien’s village is much like you remember. Several, single-story adobo buildings caked with dust spread haphazardly around a main square. Hardy, scrubby bushes grow in rough patches across the landscape, and in the midst of every larger cluster is a tall, half-rusted moisture vaporator. Gnarled, twisted, barren trees seem to catch at the bright blue sky as if to yank it down to earth and suffocate you. Through dark open doorways you catch glimpses of curious children before their mother’s hands appear on their shoulders.

A few people seem to recognize you. Some offer you a raised hand, which you return with a tip of your fingers in a salute. Suqu is the only person whose name you remember, but the entire village has your respect. When you came back with Arien, everyone dropped their lives to help reclaim her body and soul back into the fold.

Suqu glances over his shoulder at your group. “This trial,” he muses, “will test your mettle.”

“We got plenty of metal,” Wrecker says.

Tech rolls his eyes. “Not that kind, Wrecker.”

Suqu continues, “More importantly, it will also test your bonds, your trust in one another.”

“Thank you, Suqu,” you say, ignoring the by-now halted activities of the villagers as you draw closer to the town square, “for this most...intriguing trial. You are generous. Will we have time to prepare?”

Suqu just hums. With his staff, he draws open the curtains on the largest structure in the center of the village—this building is not adobo, unlike its neighbors, but rather is a domed structure with stitched leathers stretched over long, curved tree branches. As Wrecker and Omega duck under the entrance, Suqu catches your eye and jerks his head to the side.

“A word?” he asks.

You nod, but before you can follow, Hunter catches your bicep. That furrow line between his brows deepens as his gray eyes flick between you and the tall Zabrak behind you. You read the silent question there: Are you okay?

With a small smile, you hold Hunter’s gaze for a moment, allowing yourself to get lost there for one, two, three heartbeats, before you pull away. As Hunter ducks into the tent, you wait until the curtain flaps shut before trailing Suqu a few feet away—and then you keep walking, unsure exactly where the threshold is for Hunter’s enhanced hearing.

“You have not told them.”

Suqu's voice is flat, but it is neither judgmental nor upset. It just...is. Another familiar trait of Arien’s.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, breathing deep. Kriff, you should have expected this. You should have just stayed on the ship like your boys suggested, and— And what? you think. And keep lying to them?

“I haven’t,” you agree. “It’s not exactly easy to say, ‘Hey, I’m wanted by the Empire and am probably being chased down as we speak, but don’t worry, I’m not a threat!’”

“That seems easy enough,” Suqu says, leaning on his staff.

You scoff. “Hardly. I just...” You squint up at the burning sun. “Since Arien, these people have been the best thing in my life. And I know the longer I wait, the worse the fallout will be. But I just...I can’t. I can’t.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?” he says.

“Can’t,” you repeat, but even to your own ears, the word sounds false, hollow. “Won’t. Both. I don’t know. Why do you care?”

Suqu levels his gaze at you, waiting until you meet his eyes. He offers you a small, sympathetic smile. “You cannot run from your past any more than the horizon can outrun the sun, child. It will inevitably reach you.”

You find you have nothing to say to that. Instead, you drop his gaze and nudge a rock with your boot. “We should get back before they get too suspicious.”

Before Suqu can agree, you hurry back to the central tent and duck inside past the curtain. Inside, it’s warm and stuffy, the cloying scent of woodsmoke clogging your nostrils immediately. As your eyes adjust to the relative darkness, you find your squad still standing, arms crossed or otherwise fidgeting. They all turn as you stand to your full height.

“Everything alright, Nav?” Hunter asks.

You force an easy smile onto your face. The lie comes naturally; the guilt crashes into you full force once again as the words leave your lips. “Just catching up quick. Not sure how much time we’ll have after the trial.”

He nods and seems to accept your words. He didn’t hear.

You stand aside as Suqu enters the tent. He sweeps a hand at the plush cushions that surround the central hearth. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

Lowering yourself onto a dark blue cushion, you gaze into the smoldering embers in front of you. “So, Suqu, what’s our trial?”

Completely ignoring your question, Suqu hums tunelessly to himself as he gathers a platter of food and drink from a side table. You shoot a glance at Hunter and Echo both, and they each just shrug, as clueless as you. Suqu moves around the outer edge of the cushion circle and offers each of you a wooden cup, a rind of crusty bread, and a plump, green starfruit. To Omega, he gives a sweet, which she immediately pops into her mouth.

“Omega,” you chide. “Manners.”

She ducks her head with a grin.

“That’s quite alright, dear (y/n),” Suqu says, that mischievous glint returning to his eyes. “Please, everyone, eat, drink, rest. The trial will begin shortly.”

And with that, he bows out of the tent entrance. The curtain drapes back into place and what little bit of sunlight there was disappears fully.

“What is this stuff?” Wrecker asks, sniffing at the dark liquid in the cups you all hold.

“I dunno,” you say. It smells...spicy and earthy, almost like tea but...deeper. You take a test sip, and gasp at the explosion of sensation across your tongue: like mint, but much stronger and more tingly. The feeling spreads from your chest out to your fingers and toes. You sigh, smiling. “It’s good though.”

Following your cue, the rest of the squad sips at their drinks as well. Hunter’s face screws up in disgust, but the rest seem to like it. Wrecker drains his in one gulp.

“Any idea what this trial is supposed to be, Nav?” Echo asks. He rips a piece of bread apart and dunks it into the drink.

You shrug. “I know trials are a big part of Zabrak culture. Something about prizing individuality and independence. But beyond that, I couldn’t tell you.”

“How fascinating,” Tech murmurs, typing away at his datapad. “And yet, Suqu mentioned our trial will test our trust in each other. That does not seem like a test that values independence.”

You hum, realizing the disparity as soon as he points it out. With another shrug, you say, “I don’t really care so long as we get what we came for to shut Cid up for a while.”

A chorus of chuckles rises from the boys—except Hunter. His brow furrows as he studies his hand like he’s seeing it for the first time.

“You alright there, Hunter?” you ask, nudging his boot with your own.

“Something’s not right,” he mutters. “I don’t like this.”

“Which part? The unknown trial, or the part about trusting us?” You blink. Hang on. That’s not what you wanted to say. The tingling in your body rises in intensity.

“Just the part where I have to trust you,” he says. And then his eyes go wide as he meets your gaze. “I- I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

He knows, whispers your traitorous brain, and for once, you have to agree with it. You tear your eyes away from him so he doesn’t see the panicked tears filling them.

“I think you did mean to, Hunter,” Tech says, one finger raised. “You have frequently mentioned feeling like Nav is still hiding something from us.”

Hunter shakes his head, his dark curls flying. “No. Well—yes, but I didn’t want to say it to your face like that.”

Echo leans forward with a frown, tipping his cup side to side, the liquid inside sloshing. “We’ve all got things we’d rather keep hidden. I don’t think we should fault Nav for wanting to maintain some kind of privacy.”

“You should definitely fault me,” you blurt, then clap a hand over your mouth.

Omega and Wrecker, who have been watching this exchange like a ball match, gape at you.

“Why would you say that, Nav?” Omega asks, tilting her head curiously.

The words try to leap out of your mouth, without any discretion of the situation at hand, and only the hand pressed over your mouth manages to keep them contained. Shaking your head violently, you turn pleading eyes on Tech, silently begging for an explanation. Hot tears tumble over your knuckles.

“I believe the drink we have ingested is a truth serum,” Tech states. “Which explains Nav’s words. And why Omega was not given any.”

The urge to expose your past fades slightly, but the buzzing in your stomach does not abate. You risk lowering your hand. “This has to be our trial, right?”

“Aww, this is boring!” Wrecker grumbles. “I wanted to fight something.”

“Nav,” Hunter says, his voice sharp and commanding. “Tell us what you’ve been hiding. A squad has to be able to trust itself.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, but keeping the words stuck in your throat is nearly a physical pain. You gasp out, “TheEmpirehasabountyonmyhead.”

Echo peers at you from across the fire. “Slow that down and say it again.”

You heave a deep breath. The tooka is out of the bag now; no sense in trying to cover it up any more. Not that you have much choice. “The Empire has a bounty on my head, and I don’t know how long it will be before someone comes.”

“Nav, explain, now, or so help me Maker, I will leave you here.”

Echo, Omega, and Wrecker protest, but your vision blurs once again with tears. Did the late nights in the cockpit teaching you Mando’a mean that little to him? Do you mean that little to him? Hiccuping, you try to blink away the tears, but more fill your eyes.

“The only Imperial contact I’ve had since Arien’s death is that first mission we went on together. And when we got no heat in the immediate aftermath, I hoped they’d closed my case. But then that weird guy on Ord Mantell earlier— he— I— I honestly never thought they’d really care this much about a deserter—”

“You deserted!?” Hunter growls.

“Technically, so did we,” Tech points out.

“Not helpful,” Hunter snaps. “Kriff, I should have known something was wrong. Every time you talk about your past, your heart rate increases.”

And indeed, your heart pounds wildly in your chest right now, and even the others without enhanced senses can probably hear it thumping against your ribcage, trying to beat its way free of your body. You find that you can’t stop talking, the words tumbling freely now. “I was in the academy before the Republic fell. I was supposed to be a supply officer, meant to help out as the war wound down on some of the less war-torn planets. And then the Empire came into power and I saw the writing on the wall. And I got out. Or tried to, at least.”

“Nobody just ‘gets out’ of the Empire without consequences,” Echo says. His expression is more guarded than usual.

“Hence the bounty.”

Tech fiddles with his datapad. “I have attempted to find any record of someone with your name and matching your description in Imperial files, and I have not been able to. How do you explain that?”

“Arien,” you say. “She hacked into the Imperial database and wiped my record. At least, enough of it to not be traceable from the outside. Or something. I forget the exact way she explained it.”

“Tell us about Arien,” Omega says in a quiet voice. Her knees are drawn up to her chest, apprehension tight in every angle of her limbs. “Please. I want to know what she was like since she was special to you.”

You offer her a smile, but the tears still sliding down your face tell a different story. Your pounding heart aches; kriff, you’ve been so foolish. So selfish.

“You know how I grew up in an orphanage on Coruscant,” you say, “and when I came of age, I was living in hostels, barely staying above the lower levels, trying to find work. I met Arien down there; she’d been...well, I never actually asked what she was doing in that bar, but we hit it off. She was really good at talking her way into situations—and out of them—and managed to land us both jobs topside in some bureaucratic office....”

You slip into the memories as you speak. The glittering Coruscanti skyline fills your mind’s eye, the ever-present hum of skylane traffic buzzing in your ears, the thick scent of smog a residual burn in your lungs. Arien’s twinkling, mischievous eyes crinkled in laughter as you recount your first horrible day at work. The warmth of her sleeping body next to you on the too-small bed crammed into your shared studio apartment. In your chest, a reignited outrage at being fired some months later despite being a stellar employee, competing with the flush of pride at Arien’s simultaneous promotion.

The teary-eyed hug you shared just before you crossed the threshold of the Republic military academy. Though the academy itself was still on Coruscant, until training was complete, you knew you wouldn’t have much, if any, free time to wander beyond the academy campus.

The late-night holocalls with her when neither of you could sleep in those first few weeks.

Accidentally poking yourself on her head horns when you rushed to hug her in your excitement after hearing of your assignment. You got blood on your brand new uniform, but all either of you could do was laugh.

And then the week before you were set to ship out to the Mid-Rim, the Empire crushed the heart of the Republic from within. Your white uniform was replaced by a dull gray one; news on the ’Net showed the faces of all the Jedi killed by their clones; and Emperor Palpatine’s scarred visage looming in blue holoscans all across the ecumenopolis.

“I dunno how they knew I was going to run,” you say, shaking yourself out of your reverie to meet the individual gazes of your squad. “But before I could even get out of my barracks, they arrested me and shipped me off to some frozen planet, locked me in a cell, and...then Arien busted me out. Cid’s coords were pre-programmed into the Redthorn. And you know the rest.”

The tingling, minty sensation finally fades to a dull prickle at the base of your spine as you exhale a shaky breath. Wiping at the tear stains on your cheeks, you grimace. Shouldn’t you feel better for finally having the truth out in the open? Yet a hot, heavy stone of emotions still sits burning in your stomach.

Omega is the first to move, crawling around the fire to curl into your lap like she usually does before bedtime. She hugs you tight, her small hands gripping at the fabric of your tunic. She whispers, “I’m so sorry.”

You clutch onto her, tears coming anew. A sob breaks from your throat.

“You should have told us,” Echo says, voice quiet and pensive.

Meeting his gaze, you can only nod.

Wrecker looks like he’s about to cry, while Tech hasn’t looked up from his datapad once during your entire story, but you know he’s capable of multitasking. And Hunter—you refuse to even look in Hunter’s direction, too afraid of what you’ll find there, too afraid that he will still leave you here.

For a long while, the only sounds are your sniffled breaths, the occasional pop of an ember, and muffled voices outside the tent. Your very bones feel heavy, exhausted. Your mouth feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton.

“I’m sorry,” you finally manage to rasp. “You deserve to know how sorry I am. Words can’t fix what I’ve done. I- I- I understand if—”

You cut yourself off as the tent curtain opens behind you. Cringing in the sudden brightness, you peer up at Suqu’s silhouette where he leans against his staff. Around you, your squad tenses as one, and only when you raise a trembling hand do they relax, sinking back down into the cushions.

“I trust you are ready for the next phase of your trial,” Suqu says, his voice light and airy, as if he doesn’t know the turmoil he just caused with his truth serum.

“Do we get to fight stuff?” Wrecker asks.

Suqu nods. “Indeed. Please, follow me. The training grounds await.”

“Why should we go anywhere with you?” Echo asks, not moving to stand. “You fed us a truth serum without our knowledge, forced Nav to tell us—”

“The truth?” Suqu interrupts. “Hm. Yes. But if you are indeed still working for Cid, then you will follow. I do not expect you to like it; I just ask that you do it.”

He’s right, you know. Gently, you pry Omega’s arms from around your shoulders. She stands and helps pull you to your feet. With a quick pat to her fluffy curls, you’re the first to follow Suqu out, your shoulders hunched over themselves, feet shuffling over the dusty ground. Left foot, right foot. Inhale, exhale. Get in, get out, get away.

If only the truth serum was the only test of your bonds with the squad. As you squint into the glare of the afternoon sun, you cannot shake the mantle of despair settling over you like a heavy cloak. You’ve watched all of your squad stand back-to-back in various pairs—Omega and Tech, Wrecker and Hunter, Echo and Tech—and defeat scavenged training droids, reprogrammed B-1 battle units, even a few stubborn villagers who insisted they be part of the exercise. And all of them executed their trials perfectly.

The goal, Suqu had explained as you each checked your gear, is to put your faith in the other person. One of the duo is blindfolded with full access to weapons (set to stun), while the other has their hands bound and can only direct the other person where and when to shoot. All of the squad, even Omega, has completed the course quickly and efficiently, with no extra communication.

And now it’s your turn. You know Suqu purposely left you for last. Giving you your comeuppance, something Arien probably would insist on herself if she were still here. Then again, if she were here, none of you would be here right now, either.

Enough, you tell yourself. Focus.

As Tech and Echo finish their set, Tech lowering his blindfold to untie Echo’s arms, you inhale as deeply as you can. You take a step forward, then another, then another, until you are by yourself in the center of the training ground.

Suqu quietly requests someone else to volunteer to go first, and for a terrible moment, you think none of them will offer, that they will turn around and disappear. But then you hear light footsteps, and Omega beams up at you like always.

“Do you want to shoot or give directions?” she asks. Then she laughs at herself. “Wait. I should probably give directions.”

“Whatever you think is best, kiddo,” you say with numb lips. You want to collapse with relief that at least one of your squad—your friends—hasn’t given up on you.

She hands you two dusty cloths, one to to tie over your eyes, the other to bind her arms back.. You loosely tie her wrists behind her back, then, after a moment of fumbling with tying a knot, the world around you is just a haze of light. Your breathing sounds amplified. Omega bumps her shoulder against your hip and whispers, “Breathe.”

You nod stiffly and barely hear when Suqu calls, “Begin!”

“Three o’clock, 65 up,” Omega says, and you pivot, bringing one blaster up and squeezing the trigger. She tsks and says, “Sorry, three-and-a-quarter.”

Adjusting, you fire again, and a moment later the crunch of metal on dirt signals you that a droid has dropped out of the air.

“Ten-and-a-half,” Omega shouts, her voice moving around you, “20 down!”

You spin, exhale, and squeeze in one fluid motion, and hear her small exclamation of victory as something—someone?—crumples to the ground.

The two of you complete the trial without issue, working as seamlessly together as always. When you raise the blindfold, blinking away dust, she high-fives you before sprinting back to the edge of the circular plot of ground.

“Switch!” Suqu calls.

You untie the blindfold and hold it out for your next partner—Wrecker. He offers you a big grin, clearly excited to finally shoot at things, even if he can’t see them, and you can’t help the smile that ghosts over your lips in return. His enthusiasm is infectious.

You understand the simple twelve-digit quadrant system the squad has been using, with the first quadrant starting wherever the shooter is facing forward. What you’re not a good judge of is the angle of the shots; you felt them when Omega rattled them off for you, but you’re unsure how well you can translate that for Wrecker or the others. But you take another deep breath.

Wrecker binds your hands behind your back like you’d done for Omega, then blindfolds himself. You align yourself with his one o’clock. Suqu shouts for you to begin.

Two opponents approach from opposite sides. You glance between the two before deciding on the one to your right, a B-1 that is advancing faster than the villager. “Four o’clock, flat elevation.”

Wrecker dutifully turns and, with a delighted shout, lets loose several semi-automatic stun bolts. All of them collide with their target. The battle droid folds over itself and rolls in the dirt. You cringe, but better the droid than the villager.

But you can’t afford distractions right now. “Nine o’clock— scratch that, eight-and-three-quarters, 40—no, 50 up!”

Wrecker again turns and fires, missing the droid by a hair.

“Up a degree,” you correct, and his shot slams into the spherical training droid, shorting it out.

By the time that Tech and Echo have undertaken the trial with you, you’re sweating and truly exhausted. Echo gave you directions without issue, but unlike Omega and Wrecker, had no smile to offer you. And Tech critiqued your hesitant calls for angles the entire time, almost like he, not Hunter, has enhanced senses and could tell when you were off by a few degrees. He misses a few shots completely, and says nothing as he returns to the squad.

Leaving only Hunter.

You’ve never seen the sergeant look so upset before. There’s anger hiding in the lines of his face, yes, but you want to reach out and smooth away the fear around his eyes, brush away the betrayal, the pain. His usually expressive eyes are guarded, withdrawn. You stand in the center of the training circle for a moment, appraising one another.

“Hunter—”

“Don’t,” he says, and his voice is so, so tired. “Please don’t.”

You swallow against the thick lump in your throat. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Here, let me tie your hands.”

He stands stock still as you fumble with numbing fingers to tie a decent knot. When you step back, you take one last look at the strained lines of his shoulders before slipping the blindfold over your eyes for the last time today.

With your gaze obscured, you expect to get a sense of where he is once he begins calling elevations. But, the moment the rough cloth drapes over your vision, it’s like whatever invisible force has linked you two together so far becomes amplified. Your breath hitches as your entire left side prickles with spatial awareness; he’s there, right there, and if you reach out you can probably touch him.

“Begin!” Suqu calls, and you startle.

Hunter is silent. You gulp. Straining your ears, you can hear the faintest whir of servos as a training droid or two take flight. To your left, you think you hear soft footfall across the dirt ground, but there’s just enough wind and distant chatter from the village to trick your brain. Your breathing grows shallower.

“Hunter?” you murmur.

And then you yelp, a sharp burn piercing your right shoulder. A mere training bolt, but the surprise of it stings more than the actual bolt. You fire blindly in the direction you think the shot came from, but when no droid crashes to the ground, you grimace.

“Hunter, come on,” you say. “I know you’re upset but—”

He snorts in derision, somewhere to your back left, where you can still sense him. “You know?”

Another stinging bolt catches your stomach, and you gasp. This time, you don’t try to fire back.

“No, I don’t know,” you concede. “But we need to finish this. We have to get this artifact for Cid.”

He falls silent again, but you feel him take a step or two to the right, the magnet-like feeling connecting the two of you shifting as he moves. When the third training bolt connects with your shin, you stifle your reaction.

“I’ll stay behind,” you say, “after this. But that can only happen if we beat this.”

“I— kriff!” Hunter’s body, warm and firm and lithe, collides with your back and you stumble forward. The electric energy of a stun blast singes the air to your left, nearly grazing you, and a moment later Hunter grunts in pain before you hear his body collapse.

“Karking hells,” you groan.

Ripping off the blindfold, you discard both the cloth and your blaster, dropping to your knees by his side. He groans faintly, eyes wandering under closed eyelids. One hand cradling his head, with your other you reach out, and are unsurprised when a water canteen is pushed into your waiting palm. Echo skids to a halt next to you.

“What happened?” he asks, voice tense.

“I- I don’t know,” you say. “He wasn’t giving me instructions. And then he just—”

“Took the shot for you,” Suqu’s deep voice intones from behind you. “How curious.”

You meet Echo’s eyes over Hunter’s unconscious form, and he gives you a single nod. You shove the canteen back into Echo’s grip, barely making sure that he grabs it, before launching yourself up and back at the village chieftain. Rage, burning as hot as the sun above, licks at your spine. Your fists are balled at your sides. With slow, deliberate steps, you stalk toward Suqu.

“How dare you manipulate my squad against me,” you growl, pointing an accusing finger. “I’ve been nothing but helpful, and this is the thanks I get? Kriff, I knew Arien could be capricious, but I never in a million years expected this out of you, you two-faced, underhanded—”

“(y/n).” Suqu’s mouth is upturned in an amused smile.

You huff, chest heaving with anger. “What?”

“Congratulations,” he says. “You have passed the trial.”

Blinking, you stare up at him. His eyes are the same shade of purple as Arien’s, you realize. You deflate a little. “I— What?”

“You passed.”

And he holds out a small, smoothly polished seed pod.

Tag list: @the-hexfiles @idoubleswearimawriter @fjordg

#tbb hunter x reader #hunter x reader #hunter x gn!reader #second chances #rhiwrites #the bad batch x reader #tbb x reader

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icelessly · 2 years

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Diagonse Me: Direct Message

Chapter 5

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One need only ask, except when the questioned becomes suspicious of the questioning.

Real-time

9:04 P.M.

Friday

"You know, Yae Miko," Venti said, face flushed with laughter. "You're such a great friend."

"This is about the vodka, isn't it?" said Yae Miko. She turned towards the now-empty bottle, marvel in the sigh that followed.

"Come on, Venti appreciates you for more than just what you can offer," Nilou laughed.

"Perhaps next time I should bring some more, considering how long it took you guys to drink it all," Yae Miko clicked her tongue.

You chimed in, "Definitely! And next time we should try this new mix I found on Pinterest."

"Y/n, I've been meaning to ask you," said Cyno, who was sitting on your right.

"Yeah?"

"Why are your Pinterest boards always filled with motivational quotes when you're the least motiva—" Cyno was suddenly cut off by Venti's exclamation.

"Let's play never have I ever!"

"That could be fun," Yanfei said.

You were all sitting around Nilou's coffee table, some on the floor and others comfortably settled on the couch. Nilou had volunteered her apartment for the party, and since she lived off campus it was convenient for the others.

As you took the last sip from your glass, knocking sounded from the door. Nilou excused herself to go check it out and you followed after, already presuming the visitor. Nilou peeked through the eyehole before opening the door, and just as you thought it was Dottore.

"I'm glad you could make it, Dottore," Nilou said.

"Thank you for extending an invitation my way; I brought something for the party," he said.

It was obvious from the shape in his bag that he brought alcohol. You must have been staring too long, for he wordlessly handed you the bag and entered the apartment, Nilou following behind him.

You peeked into the bag. It was rum. You giggled to yourself as you set it back into the bag—exquisite taste as always.

"Oh, Y/n there you are! Come on we're about to start," said Venti.

You suddenly had an idea, "Dottore brought rum. Whoever 'has' drinks. "

* * *

"Your turn, Dottore." Yanfei said.

He thought for a moment, "I have never told a professor the reason I didn't turn in an assignment was because there was a spider on my laptop."

"You know the point of the game is to get others to drink, right?" Venti said.

Dottore chuckled, "There is one person who has."

You averted your eyes as you took your shot. "It was a really big spider."

"Why didn't you just ask someone to kill it?" asked Cyno.

"I couldn't!"

"Why?"

"I had tabs open!"

"I have a good idea: let's look through Y/n's search history," Venti grinned as he stood up from his spot on the couch. You bolted up immediately and he gave chase, the two of you ending up somewhere outside.

Nilou glanced at Yanfei who remained completely nonchalantly. Nilou didn't know how she did it; she felt like a nervous wreck! Now was the perfect opportunity to see the real Dottore, but she didn't know if she could muster the courage to probe him.

Luckily, Yanfei spoke first, "This is my first time meeting you, Dottore. My name is Yanfei, and I'm an attorney here in Liyue."

"I know who you are. You're quite accomplished for having only recently graduated."

"You flatter me, though you have no room to speak."

He laughed, "Yes, well I do suppose that's true."

"I've met you before but I never got to ask. What do you do?" Nilou asked.

"I'm a researcher, though at the moment I'm conducting clinical trials," said Dottore.

Yanfei prompted, "What are you researching?"

"I'm afraid the research can't be made public yet," he explained. Nilou wondered if by 'can't be made public' he really meant 'nothing you should know.'

"You guys are asking Dottore a lot of questions," Cyno pointed out. Yae Miko simply sipped on some water.

Nilou was hesitant, but Yanfei didn't back down, "I just wanted to know more about him since he's dating Y/n."

Nilou almost choked while Cyno jumped to his feet, exclaiming, "They're dating?"

"We are not," Dottore said, now eyeing Yanfei.

Yanfei sheepishly giggled, "My bad I really thought you two were." She shot her eyes over to Nilou who understood immediately.

"Venti and I kind of figured the same thing, but we probably should have asked."

"Do consider your presumptions next time."

Yae Miko spoke up, "It's only natural to make that assumption, is it not? None of us knew you before tonight, and even then you really only spoke to Y/n."

"I suppose you could view it that way from your perspective," he acknowledged.

"Right," Yanfei said. "Well, then, let us continue the game."

10:43 P.M.

End

Taglist

@jellyfish-6 @zannivrs @lxry-chxn @pinktrouble

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #fem!reader #genshin impact x y/n #dottore x reader #dottore x you #il dottore #genshin modern au #genshin smau

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pearlprincess02 · 1 year

Text

draken's big six

birthday: may 10th

sun:

taurus sun: taurus suns are practical and sensual. they love everything that bring them pleasure and comfort... including food! these individuals seek for stability, as well as material and emotional security. taurus love taking their time when doing things and they don't like when others rush them. they can be quite stubborn and, whenever they make a decision, it can be hard to change their minds.

sun in 8th house: sun in the 8th house individuals are always changing themselves, wether it’s their looks or personality! at times, they can feel misunderstood, as if no one really knows them. these people love being intimate, and they crave that passion! there might be a side of them that they keep hidden, it can be like the more “darker” side. they have a lot of trauma, these people have actually gone through a lot of things throughout their life so this actually makes them very wise and compassionate! they aren’t scared of anything, have a hard time expressing their deeper emotions, and can be pretty spooky? sun in the 8th house individuals can be described as determined, loyal, brave, secretive, resentful, intense, self-reliant, competitive, wise, and independent.

moon:

scorpio moon: understands the depths of the human condition, people feel safe revealing traumas/secrets , past pains become reborn psychic gifts, refusal to let others in - emotional islander, unrelenting sense of being wrong done-by, emotional compulsions

moon in 3rd: someone who has moon in the 3rd is troubled by the decisions he or she makes in life. the mind is so active, there are so many thoughts running trough your head that you can't decide on which side you're truly on. and this will be a very big problem when you'll have to choose a path in your life. you'll struggle a lot of times with your thoughts and the influences of the outside world before you decide what is good for you. i don't want to say you'll have to go trough a mental breakdown before you realize what is your path but indeed there will be something that will shock you so hard and you will calm down, realizing that you are you, and the outside is the outside. you can't be constantly overwhelmed of what other thinks, what society thinks, your friends, your professor and so on. there are good and bad sides, everywhere. stop changig your mind all the time. don't waste your life on that.

rising/1st house:

virgo rising: the "i'm better than you" look; they actually may be annoying sometimes with how they focused on doing things "the right way"; people usually think that their smart; may actually be very smart.

mercury:

taurus mercury: learning through hands-on trial and error. this placement excels when they’re able to be meticulous and take their time absorbing new information. they want to be able to take the challenge apart and put it back together. they do well with teamwork but not so well with time constraints. deliberate learners with a knack for assisting in the learning process of others too. has a special place designated in their mind for science and history.

mercury in 8th house: interests in spiritual healing/occult practices, communicates w/the dead, investigative mind

venus:

aries venus: what’s seductive about aries venus is their ambitious vitality. these bold go-getters can get anyone they want. their fiery ambitious attitudes exhilarate those in their presence as they bring motivation and originality to the table. their witty comebacks, sharp words, and fierce fashion captures the full attention of those who pique their interest. as the most fun/active venus sign everyone wants to join them for the ride knowing they can accomplish anything they desire. their bold and nonchalant approach to life makes them sexy as they are the “idgaf” venus sign and do as they please. they fight for what they want with full intensity and don't let anyone get in their way. the flirting style of aries venus makes you feel important and sexy, they are not one to shy away from compliments and love to chase after people they want with no hesitation. everything they say leaves you wondering what's next in store for you as they're very humorous. you can seriously get carried away with them and have the best time ever, they don't judge people and instead help people let loose. everything is done by carnal instinct including their sense of style. these people are trendsetters and wear clothes most are afraid to. monochromatic outfits, fierce eyeliner, and red lips suits them best. red and black are their best colours to represent their fearlessness.

venus in 7th house: likes to relate, feel the need to be in a commitment (marriage). they like to dedicate themselves to relationships. they can attract someone beautiful and recognizable. express love and romance. loves to make deals. they seek balance in life. wants to please their partner. it may indicate an improvement in material life after marriage. the big question of life involves partnerships, if the relationship (marriage, society) is disturbed it is affected. it has many partners and mediators. they like peace and love. seeks to make the other happy. attracts pleasure and fun.

mars:

pisces mars: unifying. intuitive. serves others. looks for solutions to difficult problems. charitable, receptive, and imaginative. selfless. kind, forgiving, and a good listener. communicates openly about problems that exist in the personal life. shares spiritual solutions to practical problems. allows others to share their insights also. helps expand spiritual awareness in others. romantic. the most attentive lovers. poetic souls. has a conscious awareness of this spiritual dimension. peace-loving. responds to assaults with forgiveness or retreat than with violence. has a keen sensitivity to the feelings of others. can almost feel someone's pain. strives to improve the lot of all defenseless or underprivileged creatures. fights to end cruelty and tyranny in the world. artistic. musical.

mars in 6th house: you have a very deep need of being of service to others, to the point of forgetting to put yourself first. you’re very dedicated to your passions and eager to work hard, with a lot of energy when it comes to work life, but be careful of overworking yourself to the point of a breakdown. you can also be very irritable when others are not working as hard as you or meeting your expectations; you should work on your teamwork skills, and to be more gentler with those around you and not let your violent nature get the best of you. you should also be more attentive of your health. very calculated and disciplined. you melt when being appreciated for your efforts. you make for a strict boss but an amazing friend. you tend to see the worst in people, though, being very attentive to their flaws that should somehow be fixed. it’s not like you have bad intentions, you just have a need for improvement, seeing the potential in everything you lay your eyes on.

⊹ ᨘ໑ ⛓⋆𓂂⊹ ᨘ໑

draken's masterlist

crd:

sun sun 2.

moon moon 2.

rising

mercury mercury 2.

venus venus 2.

mars mars 2.

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starfall-spirit · 1 year

Text

The Siren's Song

Siren Masterlist

Word Count: 912

Chapter III: The Bargain

Feyre woke to a soft speech and wood creaking above her. Strange and out of place in her day-to-day life. Then there was a hard pallet of some kind beneath her. Air she was breathing. Sand crusted to her skin. And two men she had never seen watching over her. This was no place for a siren to find herself.

The panicked shift in her breathing alerted the two humans to her state of consciousness and the low conversation halted. Both were quite handsome, by human standards. Nowhere near as attractive as the captain she’d met when she first surfaced, but handsome all the same. Neither said a word, waiting for her to hang herself, apparently. She couldn’t help the broken sound that left her when she spotted the short-haired one resting a casual hand over the knife at his thigh.

“Clearly there’s been some confusion here,” she said, pouring her gift into every word as she mastered her fear. “I’ll just be on my way home and-”

“Don’t try it, sweetheart,” the longer-haired one said. “We sailors aren’t too fond of magic and your pretty little voice won’t be muddling anyone else’s head so long as you’ve got that bracelet on.”

She took a sharp breath in. Her voice was her only weapon. She lived beneath the waters and had no reason to learn to fight on land. She eyed the nullifier with distaste. The thin band of silver was just loose enough on her wrist to allow circulation, but there would be no removing it without access to whatever key fit the mechanism at her pulse point. She looked between the two again, wondering which possessed that shot at freedom.

The man’s words clanged through her a second time. “What do you mean muddling anyone else’s head?”

The door creaked open then, drawing the speaker’s attention. The one wielding the dagger had yet to move his eyes from her. “Honestly, Rhysand,” a hard female voice was saying. “One would think you’d learn after all these years.”

“Amren, if I-Well, hello darling. Awake at last, I see.”

Fuck. They were local sailors. Residents of Hewn Harbor. Serving the captain she met before making her way to sea. Before that storm. And then she’d fled, off kilter from the interaction, and one of those cresting waves had sent her head straight into the rocks. “I just want to go home.”

“And I want to know what a Siren’s doing strolling through my port when our treaty is supposed to keep you confined to the waters. Start talking.”

“I was getting a gift for someone. I was on my way back to the water. Please, I don’t want to cause any trouble. I want to go home.”

He jerked his chin and the quartet behind him slipped out of the house. “There are rules set. A treaty between our ancestors that’s been upheld, as far as I can tell. Until now.”

“Yes.”

“I have three options,” the captain continued, pacing the small room. Feyre didn’t know why he was dragging this out. Just looking at their peoples’ bloody history, who he was and what she was, she knew she was going to die today. “I could do as the treaty entitles and report your offense.”

Throw a gauntlet and force Tarquin to bring her to trial. Risk starting a war that could bring the citizens of Adriata and neighboring coves to land if she was pardoned. And that was if the humans and those rare and precious magic holders on land hadn’t developed some sort of technology to strike hard and heavy through water.

“I could kill you myself,” he suggested. “Or—” He smirked, looking all too pleased with himself for her comfort. “—we could strike a deal.”

Her nerves spike at that option more than anything, despite it clearly being the best choice for her. “A deal?”

“A deal. Sirens can remain out of the water for as long as, what, a week?”

“Five days is safer, seven pushes the limits.”

He considered her for a moment, hunting for a lie. She couldn’t risk it at this point. “Very well. Five days, you’ll stay on land. Then you may return to your people for the same amount of time. You may even tell them of this bargain, should anyone wonder after your absence. When that time is up, you will return to either the harbor or the ship. You’ll be made aware of our routes. I know your kind are quite skilled in navigation.”

Though it was more rumor than fact, it was quite possible sailors had once relied on the mer to guide their ships after a storm blew them off course or as night clouds blocked the stars from view. If he or his crew estimated their route, Feyre would find them.

“If you fail to return…”

“I understand.”

“Good.” He cocked his head. “Now tell me your real name.”

She pursed her lips. “I already told you, it’s Claire.”

“You’re also a horrible liar. If we’re to know one another, it will require honesty.”

She huffed. “Feyre. My name is Feyre.”

“Feyre." She wasn't quite sure why the sound of it sent a shiver down her spine. "Go home, Feyre,” he murmured, apparently changing his mind about her restrictions. “I’ll extend the crew's time in the harbor. Our bargain will begin when you return. The fifth sunset, I expect you back on land. Is that clear?”

She swallowed. “Crystal.”

@goddess-aelin // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @acotar-fanns // @reverie-tales // @acourtofwips // @jealousveronya // @darling-archeron // @elentiya-whitethorn // @gwynkyrie

#feysand #fanfiction #acotar #the siren's song #the bargain has arrived

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solarisgod · 5 months

Text

In this dream , Micah finds delicate love by their endless light . With their back resting against the soft grasses of Lovelake in the Awaken World , Micah lets themself be loved whole while Phoebus sits by , caressing their cheek , kissing them on wherever they can reach . They are still not used to being loved like this by Phoebus , someone who is more distant ⅋ reserved , keeper of the stars . Certainly not when their past history with them were unpleasant for the most parts . Micah thinks about their arguments ⅋ disagreements with Phoebus , then wonders if they do deserved to be loved by their light in the end . A kiss meets their wet cheek before Micah realizes they have been crying . They sit up ⅋ wipes their tears quickly . Shame builds within when Micah senses concern from Phoebus . ❝ I'm sorry . ❞

Micah is unsure what they are apologizing for now . I'm sorry I'm so hard to be loved . I'm sorry I'm not doing anything enough . I'm sorry that I exist ─ ❝ It's okay , you did nothing wrong , ❞ Phoebus softly comforts Micah , using their thumb to wipe another's running tears . They place more kisses on the dried trails . ❝ We're all in a rough position , mostly yourself , ❞ they remind , ⅋ Micah feebly nods . Their focus slowly drifts over to how Phoebus would occasionally ask them if they decided to make any of the last four months to be their birthmonth for this year . It is December now , ⅋ Micah still haven't choose . ❝ I don't feel I deserve to have my existence celebrated this year , ❞ they soon blurt out the painful thought in a whisper , their eyes still teary .

Phoebus grimaces at these words , then their expression softens . Micah would be dismissive about their birthmonth for this year whenever they tried to bring it up to them . . . They understand now . Phoebus holds the star's hand ⅋ gives it a comforting squeeze . ❝ This year have been so much , ❞ they state , ❝ But I promise you , Micah , you are always doing what you can . No one can ever thank you enough for your effort ⅋ kindness . . . everything . ❞ The sky above them fli- fli- flickers ─ FLASHES ─ Micah looks at the memories of them evolving into an Antigod , joining Break Beyond Force , attending to its annual festival , entering the Grand Final Trial , becoming a Saint ─ TEETHTEETHTEETHHISBLEEDINGHEADSTARESBACK ─ Please stay with m ─

Micah squeezes their eyes shut , shakily exhaling . Phoebus holds them closer to them over the shoulders , encouraging Micah to rest the side of their head against Phoebus' . The silence lingers between them as the shapes ⅋ colours die within the sky , breaking itself into infinite stars . ❝ I'm so proud of you , Micah , ❞ Phoebus reminds them , ❝ We all are of you , ❞ promises . At the tender assurance , Micah leans back to stare at Phoebus , more tears running over their cheeks . Phoebus offers them a warm smile , holding nothing but eternal adoration for them . ❝ Your existence deserves to be acknowledged ⅋ you do so much more . ❞ Micah have grown significantly across the year while they did so much for so many people , as they always do in the past .

Phoebus is beyond proud of Micah ─ they always will be so . Their thumb wipes Micah's tears still , then more gentle kisses are placed on their cheeks to make a better path where only love exists . Micah nuzzles Phoebus on their own cheek , softened by the gestures . Phoebus silently wishes to love them like this forever . ❝ Philos , Phobos , ⅋ I actually planned to take you out with you co-fronting for your birthmonth , ❞ they share , hoping that can brighten Micah , who perks up , their eyes shining . Phoebus laughs in fondness . ❝ In order : A museum , art gallery , ⅋ . . . this is a surprise from me . They'll be the most perfect days for us ⅋ especially you . ❞ Micah's lips quiver , deeply touched that their starmates would do these for them .

Micah pulls Phoebus into a tight embrace , their face buried in the crook of neck . ❝ Th- thank you so much , ❞ they whisper to Phoebus , every Starwakers who could be aware of this moment . Trapped in their fears ⅋ doubts after the argument with Warlock , they didn't think of anything to do for themself . Since how long the trio made Micah's birthmonth plans for them , they don't know , but the fact that they highly wanted to celebrate their existence . . . It means everything ⅋ more to Micah . A kiss is placed on Phoebus' cheek , nose , then lips . Thank you , thank you , I love you ─ ❝ I most love you all endlessly . ❞ Their heart beats stronger . Micah takes deep breaths , holding onto the reminder close that despite everything , they are not alone . In stars , they will never be alone .

#𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ IC . ›#𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ DRABBLES . ›#𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ V : MAIN / ACT I.III. . ›#𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ MICAH . ›#𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ PHOEBUS . ›#𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ MICAH/PHOEBUS . ›

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knightfeared · 10 months

Text

*CONTINUED. ➤ @ambrosius-goldenlion / AMBROSIUS.

For a moment, he does regret offering the words he had, but in a way, it's . . . though bitter a reminder, it's an honest one. He'd known that mindset intimately by this point. For all their differences, him & Ambrosius were a lot alike in some regards. Enough to thankfully bring comfort in knowing that the other understood, that it didn't need to be explained or further delved into outside of the skimming mention, though it never hurt if they'd chosen to.

Lips press together in a thin line, the bottom one being momentarily worried between his teeth in some contemplative thought.

Dark eyes find their way back to the other knight in training, eyes softening in a buttered soft way reserved for him in these rare moments of privately stolen peace. Leaning against his side, his own form of offering an apologetic & reassuring comfort is gifted. He stays silent, listening with an acknowledging hum every so often when Ambrosius' tone lulls or wanes, looking over to show him he was indeed focusing on him.

At the admission he was jealous though, he ducks his head, a bitter shake of his head given as he straightens a bit, but he makes sure to show there's no genuine insult taken to his words as he winds an arm around the prodigy's shoulder. Guiding him in, another sigh is given as he settles the other into a more comfortable hug where he can just focus on little else but the steady beat of his heart over every other looming responsibility that await him in the coming days.

"Strange how a lot of people would consider us lucky." But they themselves seen it as anything but. Sure Ballister fought his way into this golden opportunity, was actively making history in being the first commoner to join in the noble's ranks in Knight training . . . Sure most would look at Ambrosius as he'd done when he'd first met him, assuming he was nothing but a spoiled brat born with every golden chance right there on a silver platter for him to take, seeing him as ungrateful for feeling as he did. But the thing was, with both, the pressures that rest along weary shoulders were crushing most days. Two sides of the same coin. Constricting so tight it was hard to breathe easy when low points hit.

Idly running a hand though pale hair, an attempt to soothe, he can't help but sigh out a tired laugh when he catches the strong whiff of lavender.

"There's a lot of pressure no matter what position you're born into, the trials faced will differ depending on it. But the fact you're able to handle the ones you're faced with at all, even if not a lot of people can see just what you're dealing with as often, speaks volumes in your own personal strength. Can't say I envy you - having a legacy to live up to is intimidating, but you're handling it well. & hey, if I can help even a little to make it more bearable, I don't mind."

He isn't sure just what he even offers to help someone like Ambrosius, but he's glad regardless. With a more lighthearted laugh, one that's warmed with something more genuine, he plays with a stubborn strand of hair that bends opposite as the rest of Ambrosius' other perfectly styled, now sadly mussed, locks. Giving it a playful flick, he grins.

"Who knows. Maybe I'm wrong. If anyone could change someone's mind about something like this, it's you. You got me to see you as just a normal guy. Not some larger then life living legacy of Gloreth."

#╰┈➤ ┊❛ ANSWERED IC. ❜┊#╰┈➤ ┊❛ INTERACTIONS. ❜┊#AMBROSIUS GOLDENLION. / AMBROSIUS GOLDENLOIN.#MUSE: [ BALLISTER BOLDHEART. ]#❝ A city between our hands like a fractured bond. ❞ . [ AMBROSIUS-GOLDENLION ]#╰┈➤ ┊❛ CONTINUED GAME…? / THREAD CONTINUED. ❜┊#❝ You never know that you need something to believe in. ❞ | GOLDENHEART . [ AMBROSIUS-GOLDENLION ]

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ofmermaidstories · 2 years

Note

MERMS! Hello :)

your updates are never annoying, i love every little tidbit. It reminds me of this post:

https://at.tumblr.com/coffeepeople/i-find-it-endlessly-fascinating-that-most-humans/77nfpirtk9mu

Im incredibly busy and don’t really have people in my life tbh, but sometimes seeing your updates at the end of the day is enough because it brings a sense of comfort and normalcy, so I do appreciate them and you :)

anon. 🥺 hello, my hardworking love. 🌷🌈✨💕 this is me filling you in on all the gossip after work (while you’re in a oodie and we’re eating pasta).

okay, lemme think: i read a 20k+ review (takedown) of Lightlark, the YA book that got a 6 figure publishing deal because of the author’s tiktok about it. i love YA as a genre (it’s such a formative genre, as fiction for kids/bigger kids tends to be, so i do believe that that audience in particular deserve fun, good books to read) so i like to stickybeak in whatever drama is happening in their corner and the Lightlark thing has been pretty interesting! the linked review is not generous lmao, but outlines pretty solidly why it won’t be so if you’re bored and nosey it’s an interesting read!!!!! it does spoil the book though!!!!!!

what else what else. this isn’t fic related but i started a mubi trial because i thought they had in the mood for love but they don’t, and no streaming service in australia does either. :( i really want to watch it!!!! but that’s okay—i lined up some interesting looking films so im gonna work through them before the trial ends. i’m about to start i am not your negro, which i’m excited for because i’m currently in the middle of if beale street could talk. i also have la notte waiting; i think italian cinema is very beautiful and romantic, and im curious to see if it’s gonna make me grind my teeth like so many older films do, when it comes to how dickish the men in them are LOL. el topo (the trailer is not work friendly!!!) is also on my watchlist but if i’m completely honest i am not that great with surrealism as a genre—i tend to like my stories literal, and also it gives me war flashbacks to highschool, and having to write essays about Dali and melting clocks. 🥹 but i’ll watch it because i’ve always been curious about jodorowsky’s dune, and i think it’ll be fun to go into that documentary at least having a taste of jodo’s style!!! and then there’s also the 1972 doco three cheers for the whale—it looks like a history on whaling? 🧐 i’ll report back. i probably won’t subscribe to mubi because i need to be picky with my monthly bills lmao, so i’m determined to watch anything that looks interesting during my trial!!!

i’ve been going on a bender, lately, in like, actively seeking out stuff to consume. i went to the library a couple of weeks ago and walked out with six different books (and four manga volumes!!!) and i’m still making my way through them—i have two more books waiting on hold for me and a wishlist in my notes!!!! i’ve also pre-ordered jennette mccurdy’s i’m glad my mom died—basically i am trying my damndest to drown myself lmfao. this is not the norm for me—i don’t know what switch has flipped but eh. there’s worse things that i could be doing, i guess. 🥹

i’m trying to think of something else that might be interesting for you in our pasta-date. 🥺 i saw a tiktok just today of a indie author who specialises in, um, monster-loving, trying to decorate her laptop with monster-lover stickers and she had like, a logo for the writing group she was apart of and—!!! omg. writing groups when they’re with your friends seem so fun. i always get so jealous when i read about like, great artists or writers all hanging out in the same dingy parisian bar or whatever. sometimes i feel like my brain is so rotted from the constant overstimulation that is the internet and being connected to everything everywhere all at once—i would love to switch off for a few solid weeks and just sit in a café in a city half a world away with people who like creating the same kind of things and just—yeah. i think we must all have some variation of that dream, right? having enough time and space to be able to linger somewhere outside and write or knit or paint or read a good book. doing that without having to fret about money or having to make it. we’d all be such different people if we didn’t have to worry about maintaining the sawdust in our cages. 🥹 anon!!!!!!! my busybee anon—i hope you see this. you sound like you work hard and i want you to know i am very proud of you—it’s hard slog making a life for yourself, and i just know you have done wonderfully this week. 🌷💕 i will save the next few interesting tiktoks i see and squirrel away any funny twitter drama just for you, for our next dinner date. 📚🍳📝💕 happy weekend, my love, and i’ll see you on the other side of it. ☀️

#ofmermaidstories-asks #i’ll have to make notes on the next hot topic discussion i see to bring to the table LOL

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biggest-stupidhead · 3 years

Note

more modern au levi x reader!! is it okay where reader makes petra jealous???

Just a reminder: WE DO NOT CONDONE PETRA SLANDER IN THIS HOUSE!!!

with that said, I will write this heavily focused on Petra to make it a lil angsty, hope you enjoy!

Summary: Petra watches her ex fall for another

Word Count: 1.7K

It had been two long years since Petra and Levi ended things. It wasn’t messy but it was painful, she had seen it coming from a mile away. He had grown just as distant as he had been when they first met. Staying late at work, texting her dryly, and using terrible excuses. Although she had known it was coming, she still was a wreck when he actually ended things. She spent the months following the break up drinking wine and crashing at Oluo’s place regularly. After two years she was finally feeling better, dare she say, ready to get back into the dating scene? Or at least that’s what she thought, she was scrolling through her instagram feed when she stumbled across Hange’s page. It was someone’s birthday, someone she wasn’t familiar with.

A woman with bight eyes and an even brighter smile was in the center of the group photo. On her right was Levi, who had an arm thrown casually over her shoulder, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. Petra pinched the screen to zoom into Levi’s side, where she saw a feminine hand on his waist. She stared stupidly at the image. She shouldn’t feel jealous, she had no right. It had been two long years since the break up. But the picture only dredged up old memories of times when she would hold Levi that same way. When that smile was directed to her. She then turned her attention to the caption, which read:

Happy Birthday (Y/n)! 24 never looked so good!

She then scrolled through the comments, many of them consisted of birthday wishes and support. She lost interest when she didn’t see Levi’s username and instead went back to the collection of photos, three of them in all. The group one that she assumed had just been taken, the second one was a picture of Hange and you on the beach, Petra felt a involuntary wave of self consciousness wash over her at the site of you in a swim suite. The final picture was the one that hurt the most though, it seemed to be a very old picture of you, maybe from your early years in college? You were sitting on a couch with younger versions of Hange, Erwin, Levi, and Moblit. Levi’s arm was casually thrown over your shoulders. Why had he never mentioned you before? Were you the reason that they broke up? No Levi had assured her that it wasn’t like that, said he wasn’t seeing anyone else. She tried to stop herself from going down that rabbit hole, but she couldn’t seem to. Before she really knew what she was doing, she had clicked on your profile which she was almost disappointed to find as public. This meant that there was nothing stopping her from judging every perfect image that was posted, and to her pleasant surprise, there was only one photo of you and Levi. The photo was posted the week prior, the two of you were hiking in the mountains, the dusty trial behind you. Your face was flushed from the exertion of the climb, Levi seemed cool as a cucumber, his face blank and void of emotion. She scrolled through the post and found a video, the sound of your shoes crunching and Levi talking behind you were clear as day.

“I mean come on, who uses fucking Lipton? Have some god damn class.” Levi spat, as you snorted in amusement. Petra found herself chuckling along with you at Levi’s little rant. She felt a rogue tear slide down her cheek when you showed the phone to Levi, who’s face fell from being mildly animated to apathetic once more. You cackled as he swiped the phone and the video ended abruptly. It was so innocent, it was clear from the rest of your page that you were a private person, much like Levi. With little indication that you were dating him, it left her wanting to know more. More about the girl that had taken her place, had managed to worm her way into Levi’s heart of stone and make herself comfortable. As soon as these thoughts crowded into her head, she deleted instagram all together and powered her phone down, determined to wipe her memory of the images she had seen.

The music was a nice distraction from the awkwardness that hung in the air. You had arrived uncharacteristically early to Hange’s party, and consequently meeting a whole group of people that you had never met before. The new people were about your age, three young men and one stunning young woman. It was early fall and Hange’s annual bonfire bash as you all had dubbed the event. Basically you lit a massive fire, when you were younger it was your past assignments from your pervious school year, then it became just regular old wood. You tapped your finger against the cool beer bottle as you leaned up against the counter, the men were laughing obnoxiously as they dropped the alcohol that they’d brought into one of the many coolers. The woman was looking at you almost nervously, she seemed extremely on edge, shifting her weight back and forth, eyes wandering around the room in a jittery manner. You frowned, wondering what was bothering her, but ultimately deciding that it was not really your business. Erwin shimmied behind you, his hands on your shoulders as he slide past you into the kitchen. You caught his arm, clinging to his familiar presence.

“Erwin.” you hissed as he stooped to reach your level.

“Who are these people?” you asked as you held his bicep firmly in your grasp. He pulled away and looked at you with a confused expression.

“You mean Levi didn’t tell you?” He said slowly, clearly he was unsure if it was his place to speak on the relationship between Levi and these people.

“No....” You said carefully, not wanting to make Erwin uncomfortable.

“Oh well they used to work in the same department before Levi switched.” He said, he looked over to the men and motioned for them to come over, they ambled over with curious expressions.

“What’s up Erwin?” the dark haired man asked as he looked between the two of you.

“Just thought I’d ought to introduce you to (Y/n) here, she’s an old friend of ours from high school.” Erwin explained, his hand still comfortingly placed on your mid back. You waved shyly and smiled at all of them, including the girl.

“Pleasure to meet you.” The blonde with a ponytail said, outstretching his hand to shake yours.

“I’m Eld, this is Gunther, Oluo, and that fine young lady over there is Petra.” He said, pointing at all of them respectively.

“It’s so nice to meet you guys!” you said sweetly as you struck up a conversation with Oluo about what they thought about the department that they worked in. It didn’t go unnoticed that Petra remained nearly silent, her amber eyes wide and a bit fearful. When the interns arrived, the men were quick to go help them carry in the alcohol that they brought, leaving you and Petra alone in the kitchen. You cocked your head at her as you poured some pretzels into a large bowl. The warm glow of the setting sun cast a halo over her head and you couldn’t help but voice your admiration for her.

“You’re really pretty.” you gushed as she blushed at your words and turned to look at you with wide eyes.

“So are you...” She returned the compliment and you smiled, feeling more at ease now that the two of you were alone.

“So how long have you known Hange?” You asked conversationally as you crumpled up the bag and tossed it into the trash.

“Hm let’s see...about four years now?” She responded with a bit of a wistful tone.

“Really? I’m surprised we haven’t met sooner!” you chuckled as the two of you opened a bottle of wine and poured it into two large glasses. The two of you strolled out into the bark yard, where Hange and Moblit were chucking large pallets of wood onto the fire pit. You and Petra sat down in two lawn chairs watching as Hange and Moblit bickered over if it was safe enough to light the fire with gasoline.

“I am too, you seem....like a really nice girl.” Petra said a bit downcast as she looked deeply into her wine.

“So do you! We should grab breakfast ooo or maybe even brunch sometime!” You said excitedly and Petra sat there in awe, wondering if there was even a mean bone in your body. Or if you had any clue that she had dated Levi.

“Yeah...this is kind of random but...are you dating Levi?” She blurted out, her face turning to look at you with a flushed expression. You nodded nonchalantly and took another sip of your wine.

“Yeah we just started dating about a year ago.” You said with a shrug, Petra inhaled, readying herself for the next words that would either make or break the future relationship between the two of you.

“Did...you know we dated?” she said, cringing when the words left her mouth. She sounded crazy and she knew it, but she felt obligated to clear the air between you before it got bad.

“Hm I think he mentioned it once or twice, and Hange told me about you when you first started dating.” You said looking up thoughtfully, your tone held no malice or any sign of ill will.

“You’re not...”

“Insecure? Nah, and don’t take that like I’m being cocky! I just mean that...”

“No, no let’s just not do this. I’m sorry for bringing it up. God I’m such a bitch.” Petra went to stand and you followed her, catching her wrist.

“It’s alright really, I don’t care about what happened between you and Levi. It’s frankly none of my business, I just...wanna be friends with you.” you smiled at her sheepishly as she looked at you with wide eyes.

“Oh” She managed to say dumbly.

“That is if you want to be friends.” You said, letting go of her hand and giving her some space.

“Yeah...I think that I’d like that very much.” Petra said with a bright smile.

In honor of Women’s History month, I couldn’t bare to write something that was a stereotypical jealous ex, so I did the next best thing and wrote this more geared towards the reader and Petra bringing each other up instead of tearing one another down. As someone who was apart of the fandom back in like 2014 I am way too familiar with writers turning Petra into a psycho bitch, and I don’t like that. SO I hope that this is good enough to fit the prompt!

#levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman #jealous petra ral #modern au #erwin smith #hange zoe #moblit #aot fanfiction #aot fandom #light angst #fluff #women supporting women #no petra slander allowed #womens history month

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shirtlessfelix · 3 years

Note

NSFW with Top leon x bottom killer reader plz?(killer reader supremacy ♿)

Absolutely >:) I hope you enjoy!

[M] RPS Tour with Leon (x Reader)

1069 words

Leon is relieved when he's dropped into the comfort of the Raccoon Police Station, one of the few places where he feels like he may have some success. While it's clearly a deeply infected version of what he once knew, it's better than another part of the forest. All of the trees look the same to him; he can never find his way around.

The same cannot be said for you, however, since the lack of an open area means that finding anything or anybody will be more than a hassle. Even when you hear a near fully-activated generator, it's repaired before you know where it's coming from. At a point, you give up and wait by the exit gates to open it yourself, and you see the survivors off, admitting defeat as they walk out one by one. Leon is among them, clearly having been the one to show them around. You decide that you'll come back later to have a look around for yourself.

By that time later, after a number of tiring trials, you're rushing inside the building to get out of the rain. The giant statue in the center towers over you, making you feel smaller than you already do. A heavy sigh, and then footsteps outside on the pavement—who?

The former agent himself, Leon Kennedy, walks up to you with the same air of confidence he left your trial with, and the shame washes back over you. He says, "Maybe I shouldn't, but I feel bad for what happened. I'll show you around if you'd like me to." Your pride almost rejects the offer, but you know that would be stupid to do. It's not long before you're walking around with him through the same halls you were lost in before, only now they make a little bit more sense.

You finish the tour almost back where you started, in the small office room to the right of the entrance. Leon sits down with you for a little bit, and you talk about him and his history with the police department. You dare to think his talking about it makes him more attractive to you, but he's thinking the same with the way you're looking at him.

Leon chuckles and rolls closer to you on his little swivel chair, the conversation having grown suggestive by now and his hand touching the top of your knee. Goosebumps follow his fingertips as they slide along your inner thigh, and you find yourself spreading them apart further for him. You watch what he does, surrendering your power and dropping your weapon. You're serious about this; so is Leon.

Soon, you're both rubbing each other through your clothes, heavy breathing and lustful glances undressing your bottoms and dropping them to your knees. Leon grins as be rubs your bare skin and beckons you to sit on his lap, rubbing yourself against his bulge as he keeps teasing you and gripping your rear. You feel cold and exposed here like this, but his hands keep you grounded. You like it. You like him.

Leon's sensual touches along your back make you shudder, and you lean back against him as he unzips his pants and presents himself. Maybe you're too shy to look, but feeling his member on your leg brings out an aroused laugh you were holding in, and he smirks at the rosy color that deepens on your cheeks.

He leans forward with his hands on your waist and plants small kisses on your neck, slipping his tongue out as he deepens them and sends shivers through your whole body. Lost in the feeling of his lips, you don't realize his finger teasing your entrance until it's too late, and by then he's kissing your chest. He brings his hand up to your mouth, prompting for you to give it a lick before he moves it back down and rubs around, taunting you with the pleasure he hasn't quite given yet.

"You sure know what you're doing, Kennedy," you say breathily, then suddenly feeling his finger slip inside, slender and prodding against you. Grunts and moans sound through the room, so you bite your lip to keep yourself quiet—not that anyone is around to hear you, but you can't help feeling self conscious with how vulnerable you're letting yourself be. After all, you're in Leon's hands, and his hands make you weak.

Two more fingers and more teasing of your chest, and you're begging for him to get on with it, that you need him inside of you, and you don't mind sounding desperate. As you stroke along his member, you grind against it some more and eventually position yourself over it so you can sink down on his lap again, taking him in whole.

Leon curses when you bottom out, slowly grinding his hips, still with a firm grip on your ass. Your head falls onto his shoulder as you ride him, following his steady movements with his hands through your hair and under your shirt. You're both quickly out of breath but keep going at it, never slowing even when you feel like you're on the edge. Leon knows how to keep you there for a long while, teetering between mere satisfaction and uncontrollable, shaking pleasure.

By the end of your excursion, you are shaking uncontrollably, the arousal jolting through you with the strength of the Entity Herself, keeping you wanting Leon as he continues his harsh thrusts. Sturdy boots keep the swivel chair from rolling anywhere but against the desk, keeping the two of you stationary even as you lean as far back as Leon will let you, legs spread on either side of him as they go limp.

Leon finishes with a powerful blow, keeping himself inside as both of you relax and come down from this unexpected—but very desired—excursion of the station and each other's bodies. He holds you until you regain your energy, at which point you stand and stumble around a bit before clearing your throat in a feeble attempt to pretend it never happened. You're a ruthless killer; no one can know you submitted yourself to one of the survivors, and nobody will.

"You had a look around, that's all," Leon says before you make your way back out through the rain, hoping the other killers won't sense what you did. Not that you wouldn't like it to happen again...

#nsfwsf #sffic #anon #req #dbd #dead by daylight #dbd fanfic #dead by daylight fanfic #dbd leon #leon s kennedy #dbd x reader #reader insert #gn reader #gender neutral reader #x reader #leon kennedy x reader #smut #dbd smut #reader smut

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ncssian · 3 years

Text

A Favor: Part Seventeen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: 70% of this fic is written on my phone lying on my side in bed while using swipe typing bc im too lazy to type out words and it shows

TW: discussion of SA

***

Nesta has an easier time adjusting to a third person in the cabin than she thought she would. Maybe it’s because Azriel indeed minds his business, and half the time Nesta isn’t aware he’s there at all.

Cassian seems to be more irritated by it than anyone else—not his brother, of course, but the fact that he and Nesta no longer exist in their own little bubble. Which is how he ends up at Nesta’s apartment with an overnight bag, sprawled out stomach-down on her mattress while she gets ready for bed.

“TV show or movie?” he asks, clicking through her laptop. Shows are Nesta’s thing and movies are Cassian’s; she feels generous enough tonight to say, “Movie.”

“Thank god,” he mutters, typing something on the laptop. “There’s a Turkish horror flick that I was saving for you.”

“Where do you even find these films?” Grabbing her hairbrush, she flops onto the bed beside him and starts brushing out her brassy locks. Before he can answer, Nesta’s phone buzzes from the stool she uses as a bedside table. Feyre’s name flashes on the screen.

Nesta frowns, but picks up without a second thought. “What is it?”

“Nothing serious,” her sister replies. “Just checking in.”

Before Cassian, Nesta didn’t very much understand the purpose of “checking in” without reason. Now she empathizes with Feyre a little. “I’m fine,” she says.

Deciding she can do better than that, she adds, “Cassian and I are about to start a movie.”

“Is it his choice? I’m so sorry for you.”

Nesta peeks over to where Cassian is still intently searching for his obscure movie and smiles a little. “I like Turkish horror,” she replies.

Cassian overhears and grins approvingly.

“Well, I’m looking at wedding dresses with Rhys so he can prepare for when he inevitably proposes,” Feyre says. “In case you wanted to know.”

Nesta did not particularly want to know, but she doesn’t say this. “Sounds fun. Is that it?”

“For what?”

“This conversation.”

Feyre sighs over the line. “Yes, I’ll let you go now. Thanks for picking up.”

The bar is in hell, Nesta thinks. Mostly because she put it there, but she still feels embarrassed to be congratulated over such small things. “Thanks for keeping it short.”

She’s about to hang up when she hears a male voice speak up in the background, and Feyre interrupts, “Wait—before you go, can you tell Cassian to call Rhys back? He wants Cass’s help picking a new team leader for the Italy project.”

Nesta has no idea what that is, but she says, “Sure, fine.” They say their goodbyes and hang up.

“What’d she want?” Cassian says without looking over at her.

“She said Rhys wants you to call him about the Italy project.”

Cassian turns toward her, half sitting up. “Really? What for?”

“Something about picking a team leader.” She returns to brushing her hair. “Why? What’s the Italy project?”

“Something I thought we put aside for good,” he grumbles. “It’s a year-long overseas project in Milan. Rhys thinks it’s gonna bring in a shit ton of money.”

“Sounds big. What do you have to do with it, though?” She’s never heard of Cassian being involved in Night Court’s international operations, even though he takes on more work than the usual employee.

Cassian shrugs, going back to movie searching. “He wanted me to be the one leading the team, and I guess he still feels petty about me turning him down. Honestly, choosing team leaders outside of my department isn’t even part of my jurisdiction.”

Nesta hesitates. “He offered you the job? When?” She didn’t know this.

“On New Year’s.”

“And you turned it down?”

“Yeah.” Cassian clicks on a link that looks like it’ll plant fifteen different viruses in Nesta’s laptop. “Found the movie,” he says.

“Why would you do that?” Nesta demands.

“The movie?”

“The job offer! Why would you turn down such a big opportunity without even telling me?”

Cassian laughs in confusion. “Are you angry right now?”

She’s astonished at his nonchalance. “Cassian,” she says. “It’s Italy.”

Italy with the art and history and seaside beauty—it’s on their top five places to see before they die.

“It’s Milan,” he says like there’s a difference, “and it’s an entire year away from you.” He shakes his head, sitting up to face her. “Are you out of your mind?”

She goes still. “Don’t tell me you said no because of me.”

“Of course I said no because of you.”

“It’s your dream job!” she bursts. “Traveling, exploring, being on your own—”

“Those are our dreams. I made those plans with you. The hell am I supposed to do all the way in Italy without you?”

“You sound codependent,” she retorts.

He narrows his brows. “Like you wouldn’t do the same thing in my position?”

He’s right, of course. Nesta would do the exact same thing for him. But Nesta and Cassian are not the same, and they both know it. “You can’t make that comparison,” she sighs.

“Why not?” he demands.

“Because—” She struggles to put it into words. “I would give up a long distance job for you because it would be worth it. You’re worth it. It doesn’t work the other way around.”

“Again: why the fuck not?”

So he’s really going to make her spell it out. “Because you’re a good boyfriend. You’re affectionate and caring, you always go the extra mile for those you love, and you come with all these free perks. It’s a great deal. And I’m not anything terrible, but I’m the bare minimum compared to you. Why would you give up Italy for the bare minimum?”

Cassian looks at her in disbelief. “I don’t even know how you can say so many wrong things in a row.”

“He’s blinded by love,” Nesta mutters to herself.

“First of all,” he holds up a finger, “I don’t know where you learned to compare yourself to me, but I don’t like it. You make it sound like I need to be paid back for every half-decent thing I do, and that is not the case at all.”

“Of course you think that,” she says. “You wouldn’t be a good person if you didn’t.”

“Then let me be a blunt person.” He puts a hand on her knee and looks her in the eye. “You will never be like me. Very few people are; you can’t take it personally.”

“Oh my god.” Her eyes might roll out of her head.

“But you’re not the bare minimum. Not even close.” He states it like an undeniable fact.

“How so?” she challenges.

“Like how Elain told me about this boy who broke her heart in her high school, and how the next day he walked into class in a leg cast. And how she just knew you had something to do with it, and you two had a huge fight about it that lasted a week.”

Nesta does not enjoy that memory being brought up. Elain called her a psychopath for the incident, and to save her feelings, Nesta (rather unconvincingly) said it had been an accident.

“I didn’t push anybody into a creek,” she maintains the lie. “Sometimes people just fall down there.”

“To be fair, you’re a lot more stable now than you were then. Now when people hurt those you care about, you find sneakier ways to hurt them back. Don’t you?”

“I do not,” Nesta defends.

“Really? Because Eris texted me earlier saying you’ve been ignoring him since New Year’s, and he’s starting to get worried that you have something heinous planned for him. I asked him why he would ever think such a thing of you.” Cassian leans forward and rests his chin on her shoulder. “Why would he think such a thing of you, Nesta?”

Cassian looks pretty well off from here, doesn’t he? She remembers Eris’s smug face. Did you know Rhysand’s parents found him sleeping in the streets?

“Because he said a bad thing,” Nesta says, looking down at her fingernails. “And I have an unfortunate reputation at school for getting back at people who say bad things.” Like the time Brian O’Connell made jokes about a rape trial the class was studying, and then couldn’t find an internship at a single firm the following summer.

“And what did he say? Because I can’t imagine he would directly insult you. He actually likes you, ass that he is.” His face is warm so close to her neck.

She looks away. “I won’t repeat it.”

That seems to be all Cassian needs to get an idea of what Eris said. “And how long are you planning on holding it against him?”

“Forever.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Nesta meets the eyes that haven’t left her face this entire time and snorts. “What’s your point?” Seriously, she’s starting to redden at how close he is.

He buries his face in her neck, his stubble rasping against the sensitive skin there. “The point is that you also do a lot for the people you love. Just in a different way.” He pulls away to look her in the eye. “Don’t do anything to Eris, though,” he says. “Not that I care for him or his shit opinions, but whatever you have planned isn’t worth it.”

Nesta wants to scoff in disbelief at the sincerity on Cassian’s face. He’s always choosing kindness, even at the worst moments. “So that’s your argument?” she says. “You won’t go to Italy because your girlfriend has a bad temper and a taste for revenge?”

“That’s my final argument, Your Honor.” He takes her hand. “Forget Milan, will you? One day I’ll take you to Portofino.”

The longer Nesta knows Cassian, the more she finds it useless to hide from him. Which is why she lets him watch the thoughts flit across her face as she considers his words, deciding whether she believes him. Deciding whether he’s right to give her so much devotion.

“Fine,” she finally says. “You’re right.”

A slow smile spreads across his face as he realizes he won. Wrapping his arms around Nesta’s waist and legs, he hauls her into his lap and shifts around until they’re both comfortable. The movie is forgotten for now.

“Out of curiosity…” He noses at the nape of her neck. “What did Eris say about me to make you so angry?”

When Nesta doesn’t answer, he says, “I’ve already heard everything that could possibly be said. The shit that used to get me when I was eighteen doesn’t have the same hold on me a decade later.”

She lets herself relax into his hold. “It was about the time you spent as an orphan.” Technically, he’s still an orphan, but it was different back then. “I didn’t like the tone of his voice.”

Cassian’s answering hum is a low rumble against her shirt. “Did you know my biological father was from Italy?”

Nesta perks up at that. “No.” She assumed he was entirely Algerian, even though he and Azriel probably look ethnically ambiguous to most. “Isn’t that all the more reason to see Italy someday?”

“Not at all,” he says. “If I could pretend that half of me didn’t exist, I would.”

She can’t think of a response that doesn’t involve a question, so she doesn’t reply. She waits for Cassian to speak on his own terms.

“I went to Italy once,” he admits. “For less than a day while my brothers were partying in Monte Carlo. I was young and stupid, and thought I would never be complete if I didn’t know who my father was.”

“Who was he?” She doesn’t know why she’s whispering.

“No one worth remembering,” Cassian says, his arms unconsciously tightening around her. “I put some dots together and realized how he and my mother must have met, how he must’ve—forced himself on her, and I decided that I didn’t care about bloodlines at all. I never returned to Italy after that.”

Nesta’s hands want to reach out and touch him, soothe him. But her muscles are suddenly very cold, and she can only stiffen. “And what about now? Do you… not want to go back?”

“It’s just a place to me,” he says. “Nothing special, nothing terrible. But I like the way it sounds when you talk about it.” His eyes sparkle. “I’d like to pretend it’s my first time going with you.”

“Alright, then.” She nods. “One day, we’ll go together. It’ll be our first time.”

***

Cassian refuses to let Nesta leave bed the next morning, dragging his heavy mouth across her body whenever she tries to get up. She’s about to surrender to him altogether when her phone starts vibrating loudly, insistently.

Breaking away from Cassian’s attempt at cuddling, she answers without checking the caller ID. “Yes?” she croaks sleepily.

“Where the hell have you been?” Emerie demands.

Nesta shoves Cassian away despite his protests, untangling her legs from the sheets. “At home,” she says, getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. “Am I supposed to be somewhere else?”

“We haven’t seen you in two weeks,” Emerie says. “Gwyn thought your boyfriend’s weird family killed you.”

“That’s not what happened,” Nesta assures, pulling her shorts down and sitting on the toilet. “I just needed some alone time.” People are all around her these days, it seems. Her body still can’t quite adjust to it.

“Well, have you had enough—are you peeing?”

“Yeah.” She wipes and flushes the toilet.

“Well, clear your day and kick your sorry boyfriend out of your place. I can’t remember the last time I went out.”

“Why does everybody always want to go out?” Nesta says as she washes her hands. “What’s wrong with staying in, being safe, never leaving the house?” She dries her hands on a towel and returns to the bedroom, where Cassian is now sitting up and checking his emails.

“You’re preaching to the choir, but this actually wasn’t my idea,” Emerie says.

Nesta and Cassian alert at the sound of a knock from the front door. Nesta never has uninvited guests.

“Hold on a second, Em,” she says, jogging up the short set of steps to the door. She opens it to the sight of an exasperated-looking Gwyn.

“Jeez, next time send a text that you’re alive, will you?” Gwyn says, shoving past Nesta to enter the apartment. “Do you know how worried I’ve been—” She halts midsentence, one foot hovering above a step as she realizes that Nesta isn’t alone. As she sees Cassian in her bed, bare-chested and highly amused.

“Hey.” He raises a hand in greeting.

Gwyn pales.

“Hello?” Emerie calls over the line.

“You girls both share the same brain,” Nesta sighs. “Let me call you back, Emerie.”

Gwyn whirls around just as Nesta hangs up. “That won’t be necessary,” she says quickly, looking embarrassed. “I’ll be outside. I’m sorry.”

She hurries out of the apartment even faster than she came in, ducking her head to hide her face.

Nesta tosses her arms up in the air. “Great,” she says to Cassian. “Your abs scared her away.”

“But I didn’t do anything—”

She shuts the door behind her as she follows Gwyn outside, barefoot and all. She barely notices the freezing cold air or the awful press of damp grass beneath her feet as she catches up to Gwyn and grabs her elbow. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Gwyn jerks suddenly, yanking out of Nesta’s hold. Her breathing seems a little shallow, and she looks even more embarrassed for it. “It’s nothing. I just didn’t know you had someone over.”

“Cassian? He’s cool, you don’t need to be weird about him,” she tries to reassure Gwyn. “Though I did use to tell him that not everybody wants to see him shirtless all the time.”

“It’s not that,” Gwyn says, waving her off.

Nesta gestures to the apartment. “Do you want to come back inside, then? I’m sure he has clothes on by now.”

Gwyn clears her throat uncomfortably and looks down. “I’d rather not. I’m—I don’t like being around men.”

Nesta pauses, not sure if she heard right. “Like, in a ‘check the backseat of your car before getting in’ way, or…?”

“No, like I can’t be alone in a room with a man without feeling sick. It activates my fight or flight, it’s weird.” She’s carefully stiff, like she’s ready to be met with humiliation.

Nesta remembers that Gwyn has never told her about her therapy sessions before, but she knows they’re more intensive than her own weekly conversations with Lana.

“Not that I think your boyfriend is a bad person,” Gwyn adds when Nesta doesn’t respond. “He looks really nice. He sounds nice, too.”

But Nesta doesn’t care about any of that. Unsure of what to do next, she reaches out and awkwardly pats Gwyn on the arm. “Good thing you’ve never been to the cabin, then. Cassian’s brother is staying…” She trails off when she realizes none of this is relevant. “Why are you here so early?” she asks instead.

Gwyn eases up a little at the change in subject. “I missed you. We’ve barely talked since Christmas.”

Nesta didn’t realize people would take such notice to her absence. “Yeah.” She flushes. “I do that sometimes. I’ll send a message next time I go into hibernation, though.”

“You’re freezing,” Gwyn suddenly scolds, noticing how Nesta’s goosebumped arms are wrapped tightly around herself. She unzips her red hoodie and shrugs it off. “Go back inside and get dressed.” She flings the hoodie around Nesta’s shoulders before Nesta can protest. “Meet me at my car. We’re hanging out.”

Nesta knows that a last minute change of events is not the end of the world, even if it sometimes feels like it. For Gwyn and Emerie, she can bear the discomfort of unexpected plans, same as she does for Cassian. But she at least has to know: “How long will we be out?”

“You can come home after lunch.” At Nesta’s face, Gwyn adds, “Lunch will be at two and shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

Looking her friend up and down, someone who has such an easy time understanding her, Nesta nods in satisfaction. She turns around to go back inside.

***

They end up at the library where Gwyn works, in the stacks of the long-abandoned encyclopedia section.

Emerie takes a loud sip from the huge McDonald’s soda she snuck in. “So all this show was because Gwyn didn’t want to work her shift alone?”

“I just have some last minute cleanup to do,” she hisses for the third time, shoving an old book back where it belongs. “Go to the porn section if you’re so bored here.”

“Oh, I definitely will,” Emerie says. “But I’m glad that we’re congregating now, even if it’s in the most depressing part of the library. I have a present for you girls.” She hands Nesta her drink so she can dig around in her purse.

Nesta personally has no complaints. The library is quiet, it smells of paper and old ink, and it holds all her favorite books. It’s almost better than staying in.

Emerie successfully pulls out a handful of folded and wrinkled papers from her bag, smoothing them out as best she can. “One for each of us,” she says, passing the papers around.

Nesta takes her paper and stares at the header. Gwyn is the first to speak. “Pole dancing classes?”

“Why?” Nesta says.

“Well, I originally offered them to Justinian and Isaac but they said no—”

“It’s really not for me,” Gwyn interrupts, trying to pass the registration form back to Emerie. “Sorry.”

Nesta doesn’t give her form back.

“Look,” Emerie says. “I get the hesitation. We’re a handful of boring bitches who hate having fun. But don’t you think that has to change at some point?”

“I’ve known you guys a month,” Gwyn retorts. “We’ve only been boring bitches for a month. This is too much.” She turns to Nesta for help.

Nesta is still staring at the paper. Dancing—on a pole, yes, but it’s still dancing. “I’ll do it,” she says.

Gwyn looks betrayed and Emerie looks elated. “Really?” She hops up and down. “That’s two against one, Gwyn. You have to do it, too.”

Gwyn’s cheeks are turning red in frustration. “You can’t just force this on me—”

“Gwyneth,” a sharp voice interrupts their conversation. Nesta spins around to find a young woman with dark skin and bleached white curls heading in their direction, a stack of books in her arms.

She halts before Nesta and glares. “No food or drink in the library.” She looks pointedly at the 32-ounce in her hand.

“It’s not mine.” Nesta shoves the drink back to Emerie.

But the librarian has turned to Gwyn, who hides the dance class form behind her back. “And what are you doing here?” she demands.

“Just putting up a few books, Merrill,” Gwyn answers quickly.

“While socializing?” the woman named Merrill sneers.

“We were just asking for help finding the romance section. Is that a problem?” Emerie crosses her arms and steps forward, letting a little of her beautiful deadliness slip into her stance. It’s the deadliness of someone at the top of her law class, someone who will graduate in a few months with all the power she could want in the palm of her hand. Nesta gets a rush from playing the lawyer game, too, but she’s never had the kind of ambition that Emerie has. Emerie is a shark sitting around in a small pond.

Merrill is not impressed. She snatches the styrofoam cup dangling from Emerie’s hand and tosses it in the nearby trash can. She turns back to Gwyn. “Hand your badge over and clock out.”

“But I’m not done yet—”

“Now.”

“Okay,” she squeaks. She pulls her ID badge off her neck and hands it to Merrill.

Nesta gapes in disbelief. Before she can speak up, Merrill says, “No loitering in the library. If you don’t have anything you need to check out, leave.” With one final judgmental look, she turns down an aisle of dusty books and disappears.

Gwyn makes a face at her back.

“That woman is not old enough to be acting that misanthropic,” Emerie says after Merrill is gone.

“Whatever,” Gwyn mutters. The registration form is still in her hand. She crumples it into a ball and throws it into the trash. “Let’s get out of here.”

Nesta stares at the trash as Gwyn turns to leave. “Coward,” she says.

Gwyn’s head snaps toward Nesta, her auburn hair swinging. “Excuse me?”

She shrugs. “You heard me.” Emerie’s eyes bounce back and forth between the girls.

“I did,” Gwyn says. “I was just making sure this wasn’t coming from the woman who would sooner bite someone’s head off than do something she doesn’t want to.”

“Girls,” Emerie snaps before Nesta can bite back. “It’s just a stupid dance class. I thought it would be fun to do together, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” Taking Gwyn by one arm and Nesta by the other, she starts steering them out of the stacks like a stern mother. “Now let’s go eat. I’m fucking hungry.”

Gwyn’s mood from the library doesn’t recover, even as they sit down for lunch at the local diner. Nesta thinks Gwyn might actually be sick when the male waiter winks at her while taking her order, and it’s not until long after he’s gone that color returns to her face. When their food arrives, Gwyn only picks at her plate.

“What’s wrong?” Nesta finally has to ask bluntly. “You look pukey.” Did the coward comment affect Gwyn more than she let on, or was it Merrill’s attitude that threw her off?

At Nesta’s words, Gwyn becomes even more pallid. “I just don’t feel great today,” she murmurs, looking around like she’s seeking a way out of the diner. “Sorry guys, I didn’t mean to be such a buzzkill. Maybe I should go home early.”

“Absolutely not,” Emerie says. “If you’re going home, we’re going home with you.”

Gwyn bites her lip, trying to decide if she wants that or not. But something about her antsy demeanor is too familiar to Nesta, because she says, “If you really want to be alone, do you mind driving me home first? Emerie’s car is a mess.”

“You just need to move around a few papers,” Emerie protests.

But Gwyn nods distractedly, already gathering her things. “Sure, no problem.” They pay the bill and go their separate ways.

During the ride home, the sky that’s been gray all day finally breaks open, unleashing a spattering of rain over the town. Nesta watches it sprinkle while Gwyn drives in silence.

“Why are you scared of Merrill?” she eventually asks. “She doesn’t look much older than you.”

Gwyn snorts, but there isn’t much heart to it. “Merrill is my superior, but I can handle her on most days.”

“Just not today?”

Gwyn eyes Nesta warily from the corner of her eye. “No, not today. Or this week.”

Nesta chooses not to push. The dull metal of the cars surrounding them glints under the rain, and they arrive at a red light.

After a minute, she takes a breath and blurts, “I’m not always like that around guys, you know.”

Nesta watches her closely, remembering how ghostly she seemed around Cassian, then the waiter. “Keep going.”

Gwyn stares straight at the traffic ahead, her fingers turning bone white on the steering wheel. “I’m just going through a hard period. Everything upsets me and I don’t know how to think straight. It’s like my brain accidentally traveled to the past and now it’s stuck there.” She sounds shaky, breathless, and it makes Nesta wonder what exactly her mind is experiencing.

Nesta knows what it’s like to be unable to move on. Her own brain has only recently started looking toward the future. “Where are you stuck, specifically?” she asks hesitantly. Maybe she can help Gwyn navigate her way out.

Gwyn’s chin quivers. “In a dark room.” Her lips form a tight line. “Being held down. I’m outnumbered.”

Nesta’s stomach turns. “How far back is it?”

“Two years,” Gwyn whispers. “Lately I can’t even look at anything without—remembering it. Thinking about it. Every time I feel like I’m moving past it, I end up being wrong.”

The light turns green, and Nesta puts a hand on Gwyn’s knee in an attempt to ground her. “Drive,” she commands softly.

Gwyn presses down on the accelerator, but Nesta can feel her leg trembling beneath her hand. She squeezes her knee hard. Even with the dark parts of her own past, Nesta has never felt what Gwyn is feeling right now. So she tries to stick to what she knows.

“It’s like you said,” she says carefully. “You’re going through a period where your brain isn’t being friendly to you. It’s horrible, but you can live with the knowledge that it’ll be over eventually.”

Gwyn shakes her head, holding back tears. “It doesn’t work like that. Once it goes away, it’ll just come back again. And it’ll be like that for the rest of my life.”

“You’re right.” Nesta doesn’t have a solution for that, and she hates it. “You’ll never forget. You can be at the peak of your life and still remember all of it. But,” she says slowly, “whether you reach a point where it barely fazes you, or if you keep crippling under the weight of it decades later, you’ll still be normal. You’ll be a perfectly normal human.”

Gwyn lets out a tearful laugh at that. “What does that even mean?”

Shit. “It means…” Nesta tries to explain herself better. “In case you’re worried that there’s something very wrong with you, I’m here telling you that there’s not. There will never be anything wrong with you.”

Gwyn eyes her skeptically as they turn onto a residential road. “Even if I never get past one nightmare I lived years ago? Even if that nightmare defines me until the day I die?”

“That won’t happen.” Nesta’s tone is simple, factual. “But yes, even then.”

“Really? You’re not gonna tell me to live for the better days or whatever?”

“Does that sound like something that would help you? Because I can say it if it does.”

Gwyn snorts. “No.” But her limbs are steady and her eyes are clear on the road. She clears her throat. “Thank you for listening. I think I might feel a little better now.”

“Was it because of what I said?” Nesta tries not to be too hopeful.

“I wouldn’t give you that much credit,” Gwyn says, crushing her hope. “But I’m glad I told you. It makes things…a lot easier for me.” She exhales deeply.

“You know my plate is mostly empty these days.” Nesta pats her knee. “That means I’ll always have room to help carry your shit.”

They pull up to Nesta’s apartment, and Gwyn parks at the curb. “Give me your dance class thing,” she says suddenly.

Frowning, Nesta pulls the wrinkled paper out of her purse and hands it to Gwyn.

Gwyn smooths it out on the steering wheel and grabs a pen from a cupholder, clicking it. “If you’re going to help carry my shit, I guess I have time for pole dancing now.”

“But that’s mine,” Nesta protests as Gwyn starts filling out the form.

“It can be both of ours,” she says, writing Nesta’s name under hers.

“Really?” Nesta grins with an excitement that she doesn’t easily feel. “You’re going to do it with us?”

“Why would I let you do it without me? So I can become the third wheel in our girl group?” She gives Nesta a look that says No way in hell.

Nesta rolls her eyes. “That would never happen to you.”

“Sure,” Gwyn drawls. She finishes the form and folds it in half before pocketing it. “I’ll give this to Emerie as a gift.” She leans over to peck Nesta on the cheek. “Now get home. Love you.”

Nesta turns red at the words and coughs. “Thanks for the ride,” she responds, getting out of the car.

“Say it back!” Gwyn calls after her. But Nesta shuts the door in her face and waves, pretending she can’t hear her. Gwyn mock-scowls at her through the window, but lets her off easy and drives away.

That’s enough feelings for today, Nesta decides. Even if her chest is swelling with emotion for her friend. It’s a sweet hurt that lingers long after she returns to her empty apartment.

***

a/n: i’m back in my no plot, just vibes era

taglist: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #ncssianwrites #a favor #nessian fic #nessian au

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wonlouvre · 3 years

Text

pairing: doctor!wonwoo x lawyer!female oc genre: modern royalty, arranged marriage, fluff and future angst word count: 3.4k WARNINGS: ANGST (i think it’s just minor though), police and prosecution procedures (someone gets arrested).

a/n: disclaimer!! once again, i am in no way well-versed with investigations and trial procedures. please correct me i have made any mistakes. and!! if you noticed, i made revisions at part 7. our boo seungkwan is a prosecutor at the supreme prosecutor’s office instead of the justice department. they’re completely different agencies. anyway, this part will either make or break our couple. please send me what you think!! i hope you enjoy <3

eight: for all the wrong reasons | masterlist

Whatever you’re doing right now would probably go against Seungkwan’s superior’s orders and oath to the Supreme Prosecutor’s Office. But does he care? He doesn’t. Is he scared? He’s not. He never was, unless he’s engaging in something definitely illegal. Well, speaking about a particular case outside the circle of his office in the first place is already illegal. But you are inside and within the office already. Seungkwan will take care of the consequences later

Seungkwan is simple and quick enough to suggest meeting with you at the conference room of their building. He knows you and how much you want to know about this case. This is just a favor he’s returning because he’s grateful that the information you have about the victims made him one step closer to solving and ending this nightmare.

The prosecutor also invited Wonwoo which could only mean that there are matters that involve the neighboring kingdom and that made you worry. It’s already shameful that this is happening within your kingdom’s territory. But to harm the people of the neighboring kingdom is a different kind of shame and disgust. Everything about this is shameful and disgusting.

You could go straight to Their Majesties and talk about this, but the Prime Minister already released a statement earlier this morning to appease the public. After much colorful words and apologies, the Royal Family has pledged to cooperate in any investigation and invitation to the court. If you’re being honest, that’s good to hear. If you’re being a lawyer, that only means someone is guilty.

Seungkwan is currently connecting his laptop to the projector in the background and as he’s about to finish, you can’t help but feel nervous. You were playing with your fingers when Wonwoo placed his hand on yours. He seems to have taken note of your actions whenever you feel a certain way and following that, he seems to finally know how to react to them.

It’s a relief that he’s here even though he shouldn’t have to. More than anyone else, you’re ashamed to be in front of Wonwoo. Ever since you met Jung and Sam, Wonwoo has been nothing but supportive and faithful. Although he has always been, it just got amplified this time around. You ask yourself, if you were to be with someone potentially involved in a crime syndicate, would you stay? Would you believe in them? Would you fight with them?

You also wish you could ask Wonwoo that. But, a big part of you is afraid to know the obvious answer.

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asks and the squeeze he gives your hand frees your mind from the scary thoughts plaguing it.

You squeeze his hand back and nod. “Yeah. Just a little tired.”

Wonwoo doesn’t press you any further and just nudges the strands of hair that’s been tickling your eyes.

It’s right then Seungkwan clears his throat and takes his stand at the podium. “Good morning, Your Highness.”

You sit up straight and lean your elbows on the desk, all ears for what he has to say.

“Tomorrow, at 12:00 in the afternoon, the Supreme Prosecutor’s Office together with the Justice Department will release a joint statement regarding this case. Today, I will brief you with the findings and facts of the initial investigation because I know we are all curious,” he starts before pressing the next arrow key on his laptop. “After this meeting, however, I won’t be able to disclose to you the developments of this case anymore because a week from now, the first trial will be held.

“I have requested the presence of His Highness, Prince Wonwoo, for this is something that concerns his people,” he continues to flash the next slide, “It has been confirmed by Immigration that the prime suspects and victims are citizens of the neighboring kingdom. The prosecution has already requested to Their Majesties of the neighboring Kingdom to grant us the right to investigate and try the prime suspects within our jurisdiction before we deport them. The request was granted and the prosecution is given 94 days to do what we should and what we can.”

You turn to Wonwoo to gauge his reaction. He meets your eyes and just nods, telling the two of you that the presentation can go on. You bring your attention back to Seungkwan and he proceeds to the next slide.

“According to the orphanage, the victims were adopted earlier this year with complete and legal documents. So we can understand that technically, they weren’t smuggled,” he explains and points at the mentioned documents flashed on the screen. “Right now, we are investigating the following departments: Trade and Industry, Immigration, and Justice. Alongside with that, we are also investigating the orphanage, the Cabinet and,” a brief pause, “the Royal Family.”

The Royal Emblem flashed on the screen and it didn't look as moral as it used to when Seungkwan ended his presentation. You have no basis to make such claims, but you can’t be blamed either. You want to cry and scream because the anger is too much to bear. But you swallow everything and remain silent.

“We understand that Her Highness expressed her desire to represent the victims, however the court cannot allow that,” Seungkwan says regretfully before announcing, “We would like to inform you that you could be summoned one of these days,” he then turns to Wonwoo, “Furthermore, the victims will be interviewed and we ask His Highness to let Social Services take care of them. We respect your attachment and concern for them, but it is of utmost importance that they are in our custody.”

Wonwoo complies with a nod and asks one last question, “Is it confirmed that it’s a violation of the Protection of Children against Abuse, Exploitation and Discrimination Act?”

Seungkwan nods and sighs, dejected. “The prime suspects are making it difficult, but we’re sure that it is.”

“Don’t you have to go back to the hospital today?” You ask Wonwoo while you drape your coat on your office chair.

“I took the day off,” he answers and makes himself comfortable on one of the couches.

You nod and press the on button of your computer. “I’d love you to stay, but I mean it when I say that you won’t have a blast lounging here.”

Wonwoo laughs and the sound of it makes you smile. You watch him lean his head back against the soft cushion and close his eyes. You’re sure he’s thinking about it as much as you do. And it’s only making him even more tired than he already is. You breathe out a sigh and amble your way to take the space beside him.

“Go home and sleep,” you whisper and gingerly tap his cheek.

Wonwoo holds your wrist and nestles his face close to your palm. He opens his eyes shortly after and his gaze has got you blinking in surprise, making him grin. You give his cheek a playful pinch to which he groans against.

You only let go when he sits up straight and turns his body to you. He takes your hands and pulls you closer, your knees touching his. “I’m actually going home, home tonight.”

You stiffen, aware of where this conversation is going. “Oh.”

“My family wants me present as they discuss this whole case,” he says while his fingers stroke the back of your hand. “It won’t be long though. Three days tops.”

You silently nod, keeping your eyes at your intertwined hands. You don’t have any recollection of talking about your engagement ring. It doesn’t have any history with Wonwoo’s ancestors of some sort. But, you know that he chose it with his father. It’s a stainless steel silver band, no diamond visible. But the words for eternity engraved on the inner portion is made of it.

You’re suddenly afraid that the shine is already tarnished and you’d have to remove it.

The two of you don’t need to admit and say everything out loud. But, your engagement is already tested and whatever the court rules is crucial for the survival of your relationship. You’re already uneasy because you don’t see yourself letting go of Wonwoo. You can’t let go of Wonwoo. But now he’s going home and you’re not so confident in what his parents would say.

What if they don’t deem you fit to marry their Crowned Prince anymore?

“I have something to give you.” Wonwoo lets go of your one hand to pull out something from his pocket, making you bring your gaze back at him. He holds it in a fist and flips your other hand with your palm upwards. You were looking into his eyes when something cold met the warmth of your skin.

It’s a necklace.

“A promise of my return,” he says and fold your palms, your turn to hold it in a fist. “I know a lifebuoy doesn’t symbolize that, but you get my point.”

His wit relaxes the tensed atmosphere, making you giggle. “Thank you. I love it.”

Wonwoo regards you with a fond smile and slowly leans close to your face, the tip of his nose bumping against yours before finally pressing a tentative kiss on your lips. One peck, followed by a second and on the third he holds your jaw to continue. Your whole body grows hot as his kisses deepen and you kiss him back with the same fervor. It didn’t take long for him to nip and swipe his tongue at your bottom lip, a plea to allow him to kiss you further. You yield and your heart has never beat so fast.

You clutch the necklace he gave you against his chest while your other hand smooths against his neck. Every day that you’re with Wonwoo, you wish for it to never end. Whenever he holds your hand, keeps you close by an arm around your waist and breathlessly kisses you; you want them always. You want him. You lov---

You stop yourself right there because you’re not ready to take the fall.

At the same time, Wonwoo hesitantly pulls away from your lips but his forehead remains against yours. “Wait for me?” he whispers, lips still grazing yours.

You seal your yes with another kiss.

Jeongyeon holds her breath as she waits for your next question. You called her to your office to have an impromptu quiz game. This is not a traditional occurrence at your law firm but you figured that it wouldn’t be a waste of time to review your paralegal as the case is still on-going and the three day leave of your fiancé ends today.

“According to the Mining Act, foreigners are allowed to invest in mining activities of the kingdom. True or false?”

“I know this!” Jeongyeon shouts and raises her hand, asking for a moment. “False?”

You grin and give her a thumbs up. “Correct!”

“Yes!” She jumps and punches her fist up in the air.

So far, she hasn’t given a single wrong answer and that makes you proud. You watch her dance excitedly around your office when your phone suddenly vibrates inside your pocket. Letting go of your questionnaire, you take it out and the message on the screen brings a smile on your face.

j.ww: will be back tonight. dinner?

: can’t say no to that.

Wonwoo never failed to send you text messages or give you calls the past three days he was gone. They were always brief, but enough to assure you that you’re always on his mind. It’s a little corny for your age, but you can’t deny it gave you a sense of peace and security. It made your heart flutter as well but you’ll never say it out loud.

Finally, he’ll be back tonight. You missed him so much and him not coming back didn’t fail to cross your mind each day. You’re hoping whatever he may have discussed with his parents concluded on a positive note.

“Your Highness?”

When you look up, you didn’t expect a tall man, wearing an all black suit, with sunglasses covering his eyes to greet you. You stand properly and put your phone back inside your coat pocket.

“He didn’t have an appointment,” Jeongyeon sheepishly says. “But he insisted.”

The stranger removes his shades and gives you a smile. “Good day, Your Highness. My name is Kim Mingyu and I wish to seek your legal advice.”

“So Mr. Kim, you want to start a business in our kingdom?”

Kim Mingyu is from the neighboring kingdom who’s apparently rich enough to venture to different kingdoms to expand his business and well, make himself richer. Foreigners are welcomed and allowed to establish their business here so long as they abide by the laws of the land. You have had foreign clients of that kind before, asking how to navigate around without facing legal disputes.

Some are nice and genuine, some are the opposite.

Kim Mingyu seems to be the latter.

Mingyu shakes his head as he sips at the iced water he requested. You can hear the ice cubes crushing as he chews on them and you’re regretting not declining his request for a consultation. This man exudes nothing but conceit and you honestly don’t have the time to stroke his ego. He chugs the whole glass before leaning his arms on the table. Meanwhile, you stayed composed with your back straight even though you’re starting to grow irritated at his actions.

“No, Your Highness,” he answers. “I already have a business here.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Then, what do you require my services for?”

He leans back on the chair again and crosses his arms. “I just want to improve it, but in a legal kind of way.”

“Okay,” you say under your breath, unsure if he’s bluffing you or not. “May I ask what’s your business, Mr. Kim?”

“Mining.”

A stunned silence befalls between the two of you. Is he serious?

“Mr. Kim, you have a mining business in this kingdom?” You try to clarify because maybe you heard him wrong.

He gives you a high and mighty nod, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“Foreigners are not allowed to engage in mining activities in this kingdom, Mr. Kim,” you remind him, your tone cold.

He shrugs his shoulders and gives you a sinister smirk. “It’s not that hard when you have someone powerful allowing it.”

You are numb and in denial.

Kim Mingyu is messing with your head, you try to make excuses to keep yourself sane as you run to the car and tell the driver to head straight to the Royal Residences. You don’t even know who that guy is. You don’t have any confirmation of his identity at all. He’s just stirring you up to get a reaction from you. You can’t be vulnerable and you’ll never be. The only way to do that is to stay rational and ask the people he mentioned yourself.

Your phone is attached to your ear as you wait for Seungkwan to answer. He’s taking rather a while to answer than he used to but it’s okay. You just need to tell him your so-called visitor’s name earlier and maybe he can tell you something, anything, that can ease the growing fear inside your system.

“Your Highness,” he finally answers, just in time when the driver stops at the entryway of the house. You can hear someone shouting from the other line, but you ignore it.

“Seungkwan, do you perhaps know a guy named Kim MIngyu?” You ask and walk your way through the opened and unguarded doors. Odd, you thought, but you ignored it again and continued sprinting to the receiving area. “He was at my office earlier saying some crap about illegal mining, can you loo---”

Handcuffs.

And dozens of men in uniform surrounding your father, The King, made you stop on your tracks.

“Y/N, I need you to listen to me.”

But you can’t because this one man with a piece of paper held by one of his hands is talking to your father.

“His Majesty, King XXX, you are under arrest for aiding and allowing the presence and access of foreign nationals and businesses to the mineral resources of this Kingdom, a violation of the Mining Act of 19xx. You have the right to an attorney and in the event that you don’t, the Kingdom will provide you one. You have the right to remain silent and if you waive your right, anything you say can be used for or against you in court.”

“Y/N?”

You heard what the Royal Police said, loud and clear. You also saw how your father stood up and comply, surrendering his hands to the man holding the handcuffs. When he finally raises his head and meets your eyes, your arm weakens making you drop your phone. Your father shows you a tight smile and quick nod, a false promise that everything will be okay.

You watch, frozen, as they take your father away and all you can hear is the sobs of your mother who couldn’t do anything to save her husband.

The very moment the press took hold of your father’s quiet arrest, it became a mess outside of the residences. News reporters from various broadcasting stations have positioned themselves in front of the camera, making use of your home as their background as they tell the whole nation about the downfall of The King.

Seungkwan’s words were frantic but painfully true. He has informed you that the prime suspects have dropped the names of every public figure involved in their crime and yes, that includes your father. They were able to present strong evidence in a short period of time, turning the tables and causing chaos at the prosecution.

Seungkwan told you to stay put and let the Prime Minister do his job. But he wasn’t able to tell you that everything is under control and that your father may just be falsely accused.

Because he’s not.

You can see from the window that civilians have joined the crowd and they are livid. You haven’t said a word, you haven’t sat down, you haven’t done anything since you arrived. Your mother is inconsolable and all of the crying has exhausted her, making her faint. If it’s a mess outside what more inside this house with nothing but an eerie silence that’s crumbling you down.

Eventually, your family will have to face the people you swore to serve with nothing but honesty. When that time comes, will you even have a face to show? Will you have the strength to see their disappointment and distrust?

What about Wonwoo? What would he think of your father whom he respected? What about his parents who regarded your family with high praises? You tightly gripped on the necklace Wonwoo gave you as you imagined the endless scenarios that could likely end everything. You tightly gripped onto the lifebuoy pendant, holding onto what is left if there’s still at all.

“Your Highness, Prince Wonwoo has arrived.”

Wonwoo looked like he was dragging his whole body from how tired he has been over the past three days. But his pace quickened when he finally saw you. He drops his bag and coat with a resounding thud on the floor and races to meet you halfway and take you in his arms.

His firm embrace swept you off your feet and the only thing that’s helping him to breathe your scent is your arms locked around his neck.

“What did Seungkwan say? I only heard about it on my way here.” Wonwoo removed his arms from your waist and opted to rub your arms who grew limp by your sides.

“He couldn’t disclose the full details,” you answer and your head hangs low in humiliation. “My father will be dethroned and worse, imprisoned.”

Wonwoo couldn’t say anything to comfort or correct you and it’s okay. He wants to but you tell him through your eyes that he doesn’t have to. You have thought about it already. You have accepted your father’s fate and most importantly, the fate of your marriage. Wonwoo and his family doesn’t deserve to be entangled with your family’s disgraceful incompetence and lies.

Maybe you and Wonwoo were betrothed for all the wrong reasons.

So with hot tears streaming down your face and heartbreak tearing you apart, you ask him again.

“Do you really want to marry me Wonwoo?”

#seventeen #wonwoo #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #wonwoo fluff #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo fanfic #seventeen imagines #wonwoo imagines #seventeen scenario #wonwoo scenario #seventeen imagine #wonwoo imagine #fic: ifliys

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gayacademicwriter · 3 years

Text

a snippet | a monster in love | hero x villain

trigger warnings: daggers/blades, death, dead bodies, murder, mentions of alcohol, explosions, assassinations

The hero looked down at the case file in disbelief, praying that this was a six-month-late April Fool’s joke.

“You want me to do what?”

“I want you,” their supervisor answered, ushering them back into the seat, “to seduce the villain.”

“I know that,” the hero said, cross. “I just have the slight feeling we skipped a couple of steps here. Perhaps even a couple of staircases. Dare I say a few floors.”

“Calm down.”

“The first problem: we hate each other. How am I supposed to spend that much time around them when we can’t stand each other’s guts?”

“You’ll be doing it as a civilian, not as a hero.”

The hero blinked. “Oh, my God, you want me to reveal my civilian identity to this person?”

“Not reveal,” the supervisor said carefully, “just meet up with the villain as a civilian, not as a hero.”

“And where does it go from there, then?”

“Then, once you’re close enough to them, you bring them down. At least get us some information. Something worth the year you’ve got to put energy into it.”

The hero shook their head, their tone bitter. “I don’t know if you’ve been reading too many romance stories or something lately, chief. This is not going to work.”

“Well, it’s direct orders, so it had better.”

“Are they running out of ideas up there?” The hero tilted their head. The supervisor shrugged.

“Hell if I know. Just carry out your mission, will you?”

The hero sighed as they took the file, muttering under their breath as they walked out of the room. “This is not going to work.”

—

It had very much worked, to both the hero’s surprise and dismay.

A year later and the villain was smiling at them over a glass of red wine, completely unawares as to the fact that they were the hero. They bought the hero’s story that their name was Quinn, and that they worked in the government with confidential information. They thought the hero’s parents lived four cities over, and the hero had to say that their parents were on a three-month-long cruise to avoid the villain meeting them. They believed the hero had a brother, Alex, and a sister, Robin. They believed the hero was in love with them.

And now here they were, a year later, celebrating a one-year anniversary as a couple. The hero frequently wondered whether this was a fever dream.

“You know,” the villain mused, swirling the wine around in their glass, “it’s just a miracle that I decided to go out that night, and that I even had the courage to ask you if you wanted a drink.”

The hero, too, had learned a lot about the villain. They had learned through late-night walks that the villain frequented the east end of town, which they had relayed to their team some time later, and the villain’s base had been wiretapped and stuffed with cameras. They knew that the villain worked a lot with a scientist on the pretext of longstanding friendship after they had both majored in chemistry. In reality, they were workshopping drugs designed to make the consumer tell the truth. The villain had been working on a fucking truth serum. They discovered that the villain was well-acquainted and worked frequently with a doctor who had a history of having what might politely be classified as bad ethics.

The villain was a monster.

And they were totally, utterly, in love with “Quinn.”

“Yeah,” the hero laughed, forcing the nervousness out of their voice. “I’m so lucky to have met you. Really.”

The villain smiled, and leaned forward, kissing them on the cheek. The hero giggled and blushed.

The food came and the villain spoon-fed them some soup. They fed the villain a bite of their salmon. They paid the bill—the villain always tipped well, the hero had noted—and then they left, the villain’s arm wrapped around their waist.

“Let’s go home, hmm?” The villain nipped at the hero’s ear. The hero nodded with a smile.

They walked down the sidewalk, the stars above them gleaming, blinking in and out of existence when they passed streetlights. The hero’s heart was pounding. One year, and it was about to be over and done.

They said hello to the doorman at the first floor of their apartment building. They walked to the apartment that they had shared for four months now. The villain unlocked the door, and walked inside.

This was it.

The hero stepped inside, closed the door and spun the villain against the wall. They might have chuckled had the point of the dagger that the hero had worn all night at their ribs not been aimed right at their heart.

“One move, and you’re a goner.”

“Quinn?” The villain’s voice was frozen as they watched the hero’s features, eyes steely and face expressionless.

“You’re a goddamn monster. The truth serum? Doctor Brookes? The plans to blow up the apartment building because your ex lived there? The plans to assassinate your parents because they begged you not to do what you’re doing?” The hero shook their head. “I knew you were terrible. I didn’t think it was this bad.”

The villain’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”

“Take a guess,” the hero answered.

“Hero.”

The hero nodded. They were prepared for scathing words or a proclamation of a painfully slow death.

“So it was a lie, then.” The villain exhaled. “Every hour. It was all just—leading up to this. You didn’t mean any of it. Any of the ‘I love you’s or the ‘I’m so glad I met you’s or the ‘You made my day better.’ You wanted to get close to me, and learn all my secrets. And then you wanted to kill me.

Is that why my base was wiretapped when I got back to it three weeks after our late-night walk? Is that why Cindy suddenly got arrested for some trumped-up charge that they published in the news? Is that why Brookes got his license revoked and he’s waiting for his trial?

I let it all slide,” they said hoarsely. “I thought that maybe you were... who you really are. I had some hope that even if you were, maybe there was a chance. A sliver of a chance.” There were tears, now. “But there never was, was there.”

The hero shook their head mutely. They had definitely not been prepared for that.

“Everything was a trick.”

They nodded.

“Say it. One more time,” they asked. “It was a nice lie while it lasted. Let me believe it until I die.”

The hero swallowed, adjusting the angle of the dagger. “I love you.”

The blade slide home.

The villain had been a monster. But they had been a monster in love.

Looking silently down at the dead body on the floor of the apartment, the hero wondered if it really was a comfort or not to know that the love was a lie just before they had died.

—

if you like my work, please consider buying me a coffee!

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gt-brainrot · 3 years

Text

And they were Roommates Ch.1

You can find the next chapter here!

It was cold as a witch’s tit when Aubrey made the executive decision to go on a hike, and she spent more time than was probably normal looking at the puffs her breath made in front of her as she walked. It was that infamous week between Christmas and the new year, and the crisp winter air rendered the cold, barren branches in extreme detail as she rounded the bend into one of her favorite spots. The cluster of boulders was a place she liked to come sometimes, though she was never able to visit it regularly. She enjoyed walking around, and climbing on the massive rocks, it made her feel very small sometimes. She had been there for about a half hour, hands in the sleeves of her jacket to avoid the cold, when she heard a very small grunting sound, which surprised her quite a bit. Thinking it was some small creature she had woken from hibernation, she got up and started looking around to find the source.

Shai was not having a good day, to say the least. As she scrabbled at the rock that held her pinned, snippets of the events that had led to this situation came to the front of her mind. The experiment, the explosion, the trial. She remembered the face of the judge as he had told her that her punishment was to go through the portal she had created, effectively imploding the rift behind her. She remembered her lover, teary-eyed as they said their final farewell. It was too much, and as it became apparent that the rock on her leg was not going to budge, she flopped back against the ground and resolved to cry. She never should have tried to come to the human world, literally everyone had warned that her curiosity would have consequences. And now here she was, stuck under a boulder, probably until she died. Her sobs only got worse as she felt the ground start to shake.

It was coming from the base of a nearby tree, but as she got closer Aubrey realized that it didn’t sound like any animal she had heard before. It sounded… sniffly? She wasn’t sure if that was a word but whoever was making this sound, they were crying. Aubrey came around the tree, and stopped for a full second as her mind processed what she was seeing. It was a tiny person, maybe half a foot tall, with their leg pinned by a rock, about the size of Aubrey’s fist, that had fallen on their leg. Entirely not sure of what to do, Aubrey’s head went on cruise control, as she scrambled for something to say.

“Hi there, how’s it going?”

The person in front of her was big. Like big big. Shai had read about humans in history books, and had visualized what it would be like to meet one, but seeing the giant before her in person was entirely mind numbing. The human had asked a question, a question that even sounded like it was in words she knew, but her mind was too preoccupied to interpret the meaning. She was too deep in her tears to stop crying.

Slowly, Aubrey’s mind began to catch up with what was happening, and she realized that “how’s it going” was not the ideal introduction in this situation. “Oh, my gosh, right. Sorry. Do you need help? That looks like it hurts.” She kneeled down and rolled the small rock off of the person’s leg, giving her a clear view of the person, who just curled up into a ball and continued to cry.

“Are you okay?” On instinct Aubrey reached out to comfort the small woman, but she scrambled away from her hand as she did so, clearly terrified. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Is your leg okay?” The small lady didn’t respond, clearly still panicked. She was small, she looked like she might be about the size of Aubrey’s phone, which fascinated her, but the small woman clearly had stuff going on, and Aubrey didn’t want to be rude and focus on appearances, so she didn’t bring it up.

Aubrey had no idea what series of events had brought this person here, but it had clearly been upsetting, and Aubrey felt like someone several times her size looming over her would do little to help her emotional state, so she decided to sit down, and make herself as non-threatening as possible. “It’s okay, this seems very stressful for you, I can wait.”

This was not how Shai had imagined her first meeting with a human going. While she had been working on opening the rift she had imagined being a diplomat between the two peoples, calm and eloquent, but here she was, having been found pinned under a boulder after barely an hour in their world and struggling to string together enough sounds to form a word. While the panic in her ribs kept her from speaking for the longest time, her mind was running a million thoughts a second. The human spoke the same language they had before the gates were closed, so at least she could understand what the giant woman was saying. She seemed remarkably unsurprised to find a fae, had she somehow met one before? Overall she was being very considerate, she had sat what to her was probably a few feet away and was waiting patiently. As her train of thought caught up with the current situation, Shai realized that she really should say something.

“I-uh. Yes. Thank you very much for the help, I should be fine now.”

The giant woman, looking mildly surprised to hear Shai speak, took a moment to respond. “Oh, ok. Are you sure? Your leg seems like, very broken.”

Shai looked down at her, admittedly broken, limb appraisingly. “Well yes, but it shouldn’t take more than a couple days for me to fix.”

The human seemed somewhat skeptical of this, but evidently decided she wasn’t an expert, so she let it be, instead saying “do you have anyone to look after you while you do heal?” A question that Shai really couldn’t consider at this moment. Her thoughts went spiraling back to everything she had lost, how she was now completely alone, save for this humongous stranger that had stumbled upon her, in a world she knew absolutely nothing about. Seeing the stress her question was causing Shai, the human made an attempt to backpedal. “I mean, it doesn’t seem safe to leave you here alone, I could bring you back down the mountain with me?”

Shai stopped for a moment, considering the offer. She had literally just met this human, and had no idea of her trustworthiness, but it was true that she had no one else to look after her, and any human was certainly more trustworthy than a raccoon, right? Having considered, she said “that would actually be great, I don’t really… have a place to go right now.”

The human’s massive face fell at this admission and, as if on instinct, she said “well you can stay with me if you like, that must be hard.” She extended her hand, a hand just under the length of Shai’s own body, towards her in offering. “My name’s Aubrey, what’s yours?”

Steeling her heart, Shai reached forward and took one of Aubrey’s fingers in her hand. “I am Shai.” Aubrey chuckled, a sound that shook the entirety of her arm down to her shoulder.

“Well I could tell that much already.” There were a few moments of silence as it became clear that the joke didn’t really land. Aubrey coughed a little, before seeming to consider something, as if she were trying to find the right way to tackle an issue. When she spoke, she seemed embarrassed. “I, uh. I don’t know if this is rude or anything, but you seem much smaller than most people I’ve met, are you… not human?”

#g/t #gt #sfw gt #sfw g/t #giant/tiny #giant tiny #giant tiny story #g/t story

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fandom-imagines-stories · 3 years

Text

A Bourbon Street Wedding

Enzo St. John x Mikaelson! Reader

Part 4 of 4: ( Part One, Part Two, Part Three)

Words: 3859

Summary: The big day has finally arrived. You couldn’t have asked for anything more perfect.

Notes: I can’t believe it’s been around 3ish years since I started this series. To anyone out there who is still reading, thank you! This is the final part in my Enzo and the Originals Series and I really hope you guys enjoyed. Thank you so much for reading! Warning: So much fluff ahead. Lovey dovey fluff, family fluff, just all kinds of fluff.

The New Orleans’ sound did not wake you up. It was the feeling of someone looming over you as you slept that crept deep into your slumbering mind and forced you awake. Your eyes fluttered open and you screamed. Caroline stood over you, hands on her hips and rage in her eyes.

“How are you still sleeping?” She shrieked yanking the covers off of you. You groaned and turned your head to look at the alarm clock. “The wedding is only seven hours away! We need to get ready!” Enzo rolled over, covering his ears with his pillow. Caroline grabbed your hand and Enzo’s arm and dragged you out of the bed.

“Caroline, I appreciate how much you’ve done to help, but-” Enzo started groggily. Caroline shoved a bag of hair product at him and pushed him out into the hall.

“Damon got here earlier, he’s waiting downstairs for you.”

“But-”

“No, buts, we are already way behind schedule.” Caroline huffed. Her planner-face calmed and she smiled at both of you, stepping to the side so you could look at each other. “Alright, you two. This is it.” The last time you would see each other before the ceremony. You just stared at Enzo, speechless. Neither of you could even begin to know what to say, so you just laughed nervously. Caroline slammed the door. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Bonnie, Rebekah, and Hayley all burst into the room. Hayley pushed play on the stereo and music blasted, mostly cheesy romance songs that Caroline had insisted upon. Bonnie popped a bottle of champagne and Rebekah toyed with your hair while Hayley and Caroline talked about their daughters.

“Hope is staying with her grandmother this morning. Mary is bringing her later.” Hayley explained.

“Ric’s staying with the girls. He sends his best.” Caroline announced. You nodded and smiled. Alaric was your friend, despite his complicated relationship with the rest of your family. Then again, most of your friends had a complicated relationship with your family. Caroline scowled. “Stefan has elected himself as the selfless martyr who will not be attending so he doesn’t ‘cause a scene’.” She rolled her eyes. You took her hand swinging it back and forth playfully.

“You deserve better.” You noted. Bonnie raised a glass.

“Amen to that.” She handed out the drinks and the morning passed by with many giggles and indecisive arguments over what color lipstick you should wear. When all was settled, you were cast into a frenzy of makeup and hair curlers until Caroline declared your look to be ‘just right’.

Meanwhile, downstairs, a reluctant vampire stood outside the gate, tempted to turn around and run as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Of course, the first person to greet him didn’t exactly put his mind at ease.

“Damon Salvatore…” Klaus chuckled darkly. “What a pleasure to see you again.”

“Niklaus.” Elijah called from inside. “Do stop frightening the best man.” The oldest living Mikaelson came out and stood by his brother. “Hello Damon.” Damon gave the pair a reluctant wave. The magic witchy Mikaelson- one that Damon didn’t even know existed until now- invited him in and the three lead him to the room where Enzo was getting ready. Damon death-glared him as Freya went upstairs and the brothers stood on either side of him, like minions of death.

“Please tell me you’ve got bourbon.” He grumbled, side-glancing the two originals, waiting for one to pounce. Enzo watched in irritation as Damon threw his stupid, trademarked leather jacket onto the chair. Kol glared from his spot on the sofa.

“I thought we’d already gone over the guest list.” He sneered. “I would’ve made sure that this-”

“Behave yourself Kol.” Elijah warned.

“It’s nice to know none of you have changed.” Damon snarked, snatching up the bottle of bourbon on the side-table. He poured himself a drink and downed it quickly. “And neither has your taste in liquor.” Enzo growled.

“You’re here for a reason, Damon.” He groaned. “You already missed the bachelor party, now please, do something helpful.”

“You missed one hell of a night, Damon.” Kol smirked, licking his lips.

“Yeah, I heard about those call girls going missing.” Damon noted. “I’m surprised at you, Elijah. I never took you for one of us miscreants.” Elijah kept up his stoic expression, his tone betraying his slight annoyance.

“I refrained from last night's activities.”

“He was absolutely no fun.” Klaus whined. “Lovesick fool. Hayley’s practically got him on a leash.” Kol and Klaus both snickered. Elijah shook his head, but couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He really was a lovesick fool, not that he was ashamed to admit it. And with Davina and Cami both gone, he didn’t reprimand his brothers for their partying.

“I believe that I was not the only so-called ‘buzzkill’ at the party.” He pointed out, his eyes on the groom. Damon’s jaw dropped.

“Enzo?” He fake-gasped. “Has our blood-thirsty party man finally turned into a hopeless romantic?” Enzo rolled his eyes and shrugged.

“Just because I’m not a brute, doesn’t mean I’m a hopeless romantic.” He smirked. “Undeniably in love, yes. But not hopeless.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Kol pretended to gag. “You remember you’re speaking of my twin? I know a couple secrets about her you would not find so romantic.”

“Kol.” Elijah scolded. “We wouldn’t want Lorenzo getting cold feet now would we?”

“Yes because then I would have to remove them.” Klaus threatened, casting a dark look to the groom. Enzo gulped and began to tie his tie over his pristine white shirt. Elijah had picked it out, which meant that it was the best money could buy.

You both looked perfect. After all, this was the biggest moment in all your centuries of living. The girls gathered around you and let out a collective sigh of awe. This was it.

The guests were beginning to arrive and you felt your heart pounding, wishing that you could be with him to calm your nerves. But of course, it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony and with your shared history of weddings, you needed all the luck you could get. And so you waited, tapping your foot at an alarming speed and trying to take deep breaths.

“Everything alright dear sister?” Kol wondered with a smirk, leaning against your doorway. Caroline, Rebekah, Bonnie and Hayley were all getting ready to be the perfect bridesmaids and Freya was preparing to officiate the wedding. She had been so excited when you asked her and you couldn’t think of anyone else you wanted to say the words ‘I now pronounce you husband and wife’.

“What could go wrong?” You looked at your twin and smiled nervously. Kol’s face suddenly darkened.

“Well I can think of something.” He growled. You turned to see who he was looking at and gasped. Kol stepped towards Marcel. “I don’t recall sending your invitation.”

“I just came to tell Y/N congratulations.” He held up his hands a sign of peace. “I don’t want to cause any problems. Not today.” Kol continued to loom ferociously over Marcel until you stepped in between them.

“Kol, why don’t you go make sure that Klaus hasn’t killed any of the guests? I don’t want a single speck of blood on him when he and Elijah walk me down the aisle.” You were able to shoo him away before he could object, turning back to Marcel with fiery eyes. “Of all the days you decide to make amends…”

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness for not telling you I was alive all those years.” He started. “I’m asking you not to hate me. All I want is for things to go back to the way they were before everything happened. We were pretty close friends, you and me.”

Thick as thieves, more like it. While Marcel was like a son to your older brother and a lover to Rebekah, he was always one of your dearest friends. You were devastated when you believed your father had killed him. When you discovered he was really alive, you were both relieved and furious. All those years and never once had he reached out to find you. Seeing him stand before you now erased all of your anger.

“You say it like I’ve forgotten.” You cried, pulling him into a hug. “Thank you for coming, Marcel. You don’t know how much it means to me.” You pushed away with a small smile on your face and tears in your eyes.

“Hey,” He comforted, placing a hand on your cheek. “We can’t have you crying before the wedding.”

“Would you stay?” You pleaded. “Please, Marcel. It would make this day even more perfect.” He gave you a look.

“Can you promise none of your siblings are going to try to kill me?”

“You know I can’t.” You both laughed and he agreed to stay, sneaking down into the courtyard where the ceremony was taking place. With him gone, you were alone again and the unstoppable nerves returned. “Come on, Y/N. You have faced centuries of trials and vicious enemies. You’re just-”

“Pledging to spend the rest of eternity with someone with probably as much emotional baggage as yourself?” Klaus finished, stepping into the room. Elijah had managed to get him into a suit and he completed it with his famous mischievous grin.

“Shouldn’t you be downstairs with Elijah?” You put your hands on your hips.

“Oh come now, don’t be so cross. It is, after all, the happiest day of your life.” He replied smugly. “I simply wanted a word with you before the festivities begin.” He led you to sit on one of the sofas, taking your hand in his own.

“What’s this about, Nik?”

“I know that I have been… difficult these past centuries.” He smirked and you couldn’t help but laugh in agreement. “The truth is, Y/N, that I am completely afraid of losing your love to someone else. But I have seen the way you are with Enzo and I simply cannot bring myself to take it away from you. I may be a selfish bastard, but even I do not wish to see you unhappy. I wish you the most joyous life, Y/N.”

“Klaus,” You placed a kiss on your brother’s shoulder. “My love for you will never falter or diminish, no matter how much of a thorn in my side you are.” He gave you the loving smile that you often wished to see more of. Klaus was troubled and all you hoped for was that one day he would find the kind of happiness you had found with Enzo.

“You look stunning.” Elijah noted from the doorway. He held out his arm. “Shall we?” Klaus and you stood and the three of you walked down to where you would be entering. Caroline and Bonnie would be first, then Rebekah with Damon, and Kol insisted on announcing you like some kind of queen. You were pretty sure he just wanted to get a laugh out of the crowd before you walked down the aisle. Of course, it was just nice to have your twin want to take part.

You could feel yourself trembling as Caroline and Bonnie started walking. Rebekah and Damon were bickering even as they began down the aisle. You took shaky breaths and felt Elijah chuckle.

“Everything is going to be fine.” He assured you.

“You know, it’s never too late for me to kill him.” Klaus whispered and you elbowed his side. Kol gave you one final smirk before heading out to the front of the space.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” He greeted. “You are all here to celebrate the union between Enzo St. John and my beautiful sister, Y/N Mikaelson. Us being twins, I could share a great deal of stories about Y/N…” He looked back towards you and you glared at him. “But that will have to wait until the reception. Now, without further adieu,” He had an exceptionally smug smile on his face now and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his final words. “Here comes the bride.”

Enzo finally was allowed to turn around as the music began to play. His heart leapt and his breath hitched. You were the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. In fact, gorgeous wasn’t even the right word for it. Nothing could describe how you looked as you walked towards him. As if his eyes alone had calmed you, you felt your nerves wash away and the brightest smile spread across your face as you took the first step down the aisle. The faces of your closest friends turned towards you and with each step, you felt emotions bubbling up inside. As you reached the end, Klaus gave you a wink before taking his place beside Damon, removing a stake for his pocket.

“Klaus!” You hissed. He gave you a mischievous grin.

“Couldn’t resist.” He said, Damon taking the stake from him. Elijah lifted your veil and you felt a tear roll down your cheek. He smiled and wiped it away, placing a kiss on your forehead.

Freya beamed at you as she greeted the crowd and thanked them for coming to witness your union. Enzo couldn’t take his eyes off of you. The ceremony itself was simple and you and Enzo stared into each other’s eyes the entire time.

“May I have the rings?” Your oldest sister asked. Damon handed Enzo your ring and Rebekah handed you his. “The couple has prepared their own vows.” Freya nodded for you to begin and you took a deep breath, taking both of his hands in yours.

“The first day we met, you were trying to kill my best friend. However, just a few years previous so had I.” You laughed through the tears now freely falling down your face. “I thought that the only promise I would make was to my family. Our code of always being there for each other, and although it has been tested- multiple times-” You shot Klaus a look. “I want to extend that to you. I promise to love you and to protect you and cherish you. Always and forever.” You slid the ring onto his finger and laughed to yourself, wiping away the tears. You looked into his eyes to see that he was crying too.

“I didn’t know what it was like to be loved.” He began and for a moment you thought he’d blubber more than you had. He always was a romantic. But he composed himself as best he could. “Until I met you. You saw past all of the bloodshed in my past. All of my pain and anger. You had had your fair share of hurt over the years and you decided to take a broken soul and mend it. You saved me.” He took a deep breath, feeling a tear roll down his cheek. “And I plan to spend the rest of our lives trying to repay you for the love that you’ve shown me. Always and forever.” He put the ring on your finger and you both laughed at how emotional you both were. Freya smiled.

“What are you waiting for? Kiss her.” The crowd erupted in applause as Enzo dramatically pulled you into his arms and lowered you into a dip before kissing you for the first time as your husband.

The reception was held at Rousseau’s, which was heavily decorated with roses and lights to the point that it no longer looked like a bar, but something from a fairy tale. Again, the handy work of Caroline. Klaus watched Caroline from his seat at the head table as everyone waited for you and Enzo to arrive.

“Now that Lorenzo is officially family, I recommend you don’t give him the same treatment that you gave us for the past few centuries.” Elijah straightened his cufflinks with a smile, giving Klaus a side glance.

“Of course not, Elijah. The daggers don't work on him.” Klaus grinned mischievously. “Although, there’s always the crypt in the basement.”

“Don’t even think about it.” Rebecca chimed in. Elijah looked across the table to Hayley, feeling a deep desire to one day have this with her. To have the happiness that his sister was now experiencing. Hayley saw him and smiled, her eyes lighting up his soul, or whatever was left of it. Perhaps one day...

The doors opened and the newlyweds entered. You still couldn’t quite believe it. In all your years of living, you couldn’t think of a moment when you were half as happy as you were now. Enzo’s fingers were laced with yours as you walked towards the main table, seeing the smiles on your friends and family’s faces. The guests cheered as you took your seats. Dinner was quickly served and it wasn’t long before Rebecca stood, tapping her glass with her spoon to get the room’s attention.

“Ah yes, it is time for the dreaded speeches.” She announced with a smile. “Being the maid of honor, I am obligated to speak for my dear older sister. And since I have over a thousand years of stories, it was difficult to pick just one. I succeeded however, in finding a memory that I believe best describes my sister.

“She and Elijah were the only two to escape Klaus without being daggered and shoved into a box.” She gave Klaus a brief glare before continuing. “In the late 1800’s, when I awoke, many things had changed. People I loved turned their back on me.” Her eyes came across Marcel, but didn’t linger for long. “Elijah reintroduced me back into society, but it was Y/N who helped me nurse a broken heart. She made me believe in my own strength again. Y/N showed me the love that only an older sister could. I am beyond delighted that her heart has finally found its equal.” She looked at Enzo happily and feigned a scowl. “But know that should anything happen to her, you will not only have my brothers to worry about.”

“Duly noted.” Enzo nodded, his hand having never left yours. All eyes were now on the best man. Damon took a long drink from his glass and stood reluctantly.

“There isn’t a lot I can say about Enzo before him and Y/N met. When Enzo and I first knew each other we were prisoners. We were trapped together, tortured together, and experimented on.” You felt Enzo’s grip on your hand tighten at the memory. “When I got my chance to escape, I took it. I betrayed him. Decades later, he swore revenge on me and tried to kill my girlfriend.” Reading the confusion in the crowd, he smirked. “Don’t worry, this bromance has a happy ending.”

“Of sorts.” Enzo whispered to you and you both laughed quietly.

“My point is that Enzo hated my guts until Y/N got him to forgive me. I believe her words were ‘There are better ways to spend an eternity than seeking revenge. Especially against an old friend.’ Anyway, here I am and here they are, so I guess we all know the end of that story.” Damon glanced at you and despite his usual smirk, you could see the sincerity in his eyes. “Elena was always rooting for the two of you to end up together, so that meant I have to too.” The crowd chuckled at his last comment, but you stood up from your chair and pulled the snarky vampire into a hug.

“Thank you, Damon.” You whispered. “I miss her too.” You felt him return the embrace and smile sadly against your cheek.

“She would have loved this, you know. All the gushy romance and twinkling lights.” He said, fixing a hair that had fallen out of place and tucking it behind your ear. You nodded.

“You’ll have this with her someday, Damon. And when you do, I will be the one giving the speech.”

“Over my dead body, Mikaelson.” He snarked. “But I guess is Mikaelson St. John now. Jeez, that’s a mouthful.”

“Sit down, Salvatore.” You shook your head in amusement. As you went back to your seat beside your husband, you noticed a member of the wedding party’s chair was empty. A rush of panic shot through you. “Elijah, where’s Klaus?”

All of your siblings turned to the vacant seat and their eyes widened. Everyone started to split up to go find him before he could cause any trouble.

“I’ll go get Caroline, she went to the bathroom.” Bonnie said, taking off in the direction of the restrooms. You and Enzo decided to check the kitchen but were not at all prepared for what you would find. Sure enough, there was Klaus. And Caroline. On the counter. You quickly shut the door, trying to contain your laughter. You took Enzo’s hand and headed back to the table, grinning like an idiot.

“Well it’s about time.”

As the night slowly died down, Enzo clinked his glass to acquire the crowd’s attention. Everyone focused on him as he stood, shooting you a bright smile.

“May I have everyone’s attention? First and foremost I would like to thank each of you for coming out to celebrate this wondrous occasion. Some of you are from this beautiful city, and some came all the way from a small town called Mystic Falls.” He turned to Damon and smirked before returning his loving gaze to you. “But to end the night, I wanted to say a few words to my new wife, Y/N.” You felt the blush rise to your cheeks and the warmth rush over you.

“A few months ago, I discovered who my family was. As it turns out, after a century of searching and hoping, they turned out to be a bunch of thieves and betrayers. No resemblance to me, I’m sure.” The room laughed. “I’ll admit that I was crushed. But now, the Mikaelsons have accepted me into their family, some more willing than others.” Klaus shrugged with a smirk, still flushed from his little rondevu earlier.

“I almost had you.” He teased. Enzo continued, holding his hand out for you, lifting you to stand beside him.

“None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for the brilliant, caring, incredibly sexy-” he winked and you giggled, “most wonderful girl that came into my life when I thought I had no reason left to live.” You laid a hand on his shoulder, feeling tears start to well up in your eyes as they started to in his. “She made me see that maybe there was a slight shred of hope in this eternity we were both stuck with. Y/N became my world. A world I would do anything to protect.” His hand slipped into yours. “Now we may have our disagreements, and I’m sure we have a long road of bickering and evading certain doom.” He held up his glass in one last toast for the night. “So here’s to one hell of a forever.”

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

#enzo st. john #the mikaelsons #klaus mikaelson #enzo x reader #elijah mikaelson #kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson twin #enzo st. john x reader #the originals #damon salvatore #caroline forbes #rebekah mikaelson #the vampire diaries

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mollymawkwrites · 3 years

Note

Geralt/Eskel/Jaskier: Geralt brings Jaskier to Kaer Morhen and Eskel/Jaskier get their shit together first (communication skills!!) and Geralt comes to a Realization - dp/spitroasting - the turn of seasons, contrast of bright/dark, warm/cold

... this took way too long and I am so sorry about that. As an apology, here’s more than 5.5k of feelings, pining and misunderstandings, with a sprinkle of smut (as an apology, and not at all because I have zero self-restraint). Thank you so much for the lovely prompt, I hope this lives up to expectations 💖

I’ll post the link to Ao3 in the replies when this is beta’ed, sorry if there are any big mistakes!

CW: post-Mountain break-up, smut, Geralt’s Canonical Self-Loathing.

Falling in love with Eskel is the easiest thing Jaskier has ever done.

It happens slowly, but with a certainty that Jaskier has rarely felt before. Like sinking into a feather mattress, silk sheets caressing your skin.

It was never that easy with Geralt. Jaskier fell in love with him fast, sure, but he also fell hard, had to pick himself up afterwards, bruised and bloody.

The first day he arrives at Kaer Morhen, two weeks after his rescue from Nilfgaardian spies, Jaskier is miserable. The trek up the mountain has been hard on him, but harder even was his underwhelming reunion with Geralt, who barely acknowledged him, grunting that he'd be safer in Kaer Morhen before leaving Jaskier to decide by himself what he wanted to do.

His heart aches with two years of missing his best friend, finding he misses him even more now that they’ve been reunited. He'd always told himself he didn't hold any hope of his relationship with Geralt ever evolving into something more, but getting his heart broken on the top of a mountain had made him realise he'd somehow managed to fool himself too.

So he's prepared to spend a winter avoiding his former friend, though Geralt would probably not even call him that, holing up in whatever drafty room he's been attributed, and then he'll find a new name and dye his hair a different colour and hope it's enough to fool the Nilfs. It's a hard choice to make, renouncing the name he's made for himself, the reputation he's built over twenty years of hard work and songs he's still proud of today. But it's all tied too tightly to Geralt, and neither him nor his heart will survive it. Maybe, if Jaskier the Witcher’s bard is forgotten by everyone, his heartbreak won't be so obvious.

That pathetical plan is countered as soon as he steps foot in Kaer Morhen, and Geralt's brothers and mentor introduce themselves to him. They are similar, yet so different to the Witcher he's known for more than half his life.

They welcome him, if not with open arms, at least with warmth and smiles and, in Lambert's case, snarky banter Jaskier takes great pleasure in reciprocating.

Eskel doesn't draw his attention much at first. The dark-haired Witcher is friendly, tugging Geralt in a bear-like embrace as soon as they've passed the gates, and shaking Jaskier's hand with a kind, genuine smile Jaskier can't help but return.

But over the next couple of weeks, Jaskier spends more and more time with the amber-eyed wolf, discussing music and poetry and history as they execute their respective chores. After only a few days, Eskel is the one who searches him out when Jaskier is helping Vesemir in the kitchen or feeding the chickens in the courtyard. He shows him around the keep, more than the customary tour Vesemir gave Jaskier on his first day here. Eskel is full of stories from his childhood in the keep, and he is not greedy with the details. Jaskier can sense the underlying grief when the Witcher talks about the boys who didn't make it in the Trials, but Eskel doesn't linger in the sadness and makes sure to tell Jaskier all about his and Geralt's most imaginative antics.

The Witcher's company is a delight, and a nice distraction from Jaskier's heartache. When he can't take Geralt's silence and avoidance anymore, he seeks Eskel and his warmth, bathing in the man's attention. After a month, he finds himself dreaming of tanned hands and dark hair as much as pale skin and silver strands.

At first, he feels guilty about it. Eskel does not deserve to be someone's second choice. What he deserves is unconditional, untainted love.

But as days pass, frost a little thicker on the blades of grass in the courtyard every morning, the mountains losing their warm autumn colours to shades of blue and grey, Jaskier and Eskel gravitate towards each other until they collide, softly and without a sound. It happens so naturally, Jaskier almost thinks he’s dreamt it when he wakes up one day at dawn, and instead of his freezing room, he opens his eyes to a broad, golden-skinned chest. His cheek rises and falls with the slow breaths where it rests on one plush pec, a pool of his own saliva glistening in a smattering of dark hair.

He hasn’t felt that relaxed in years, and only part of it is due to the frankly fantastic post-sex bliss he’s still basking in. There is no anxiety, no second thoughts. Eskel made sure to make his intentions clear before they fell into bed together, shocking Jaskier into silence with how open with his feelings he was. The bard still can’t help but compare how completely different Geralt and Eskel are.

They agreed to take things slow, to enjoy each other for the winter and then see where things take them. Jaskier knows he’s falling in love with Eskel, but it doesn’t feel scary. He won’t be alone once the time comes to make a decision.

It takes another week for him to move into Eskel’s room completely. They don’t bother hiding their new… entanglement, to the others. No secret can be kept in a keep full of Witchers, and neither Eskel nor Jaskier cares to pretend.

Lambert gives them shit, to no one’s surprise, and Ciri squeals in delight, the gossiping princess resurfacing for a few moments. Vesemir claps Eskel on the shoulder, before reminding all of them that they have chores to do.

Geralt doesn’t say anything.

Jaskier didn’t expect him to jump in joy, he’s not sure the Witcher is even capable of such displays of emotion, but the white-haired Witcher doesn’t even look at them, only ushers Ciri outside to the training grounds.

Over the next few weeks, Jaskier only sees him at supper. He’s gotten used to avoiding Geralt, to keep out of his way, but until then they would still meet in the hall when the weather was too bad for the Witchers to train outside, or at lunch when they would accidentally come in for a bite at the same time. Eskel and Geralt spend a considerable amount of time together, and Jaskier would often find them together doing whatever repair was needed, but these days, when he manages to escape his chores long enough to seek his lover for a stolen kiss or a quick fuck, Geralt is nowhere in sight.

When Jaskier asks his amber-eyed wolf one evening after they retired to their room, Eskel confirms what he already suspected.

“I haven’t seen him in a while, no,” the Witcher rumbles softly, a hand tracing arabesques on the bare skin of Jaskier’s back. “He goes hunting alone almost every day. He does that, sometimes, when he’s upset, though I’m not sure what it’s about, this time.”

Jaskier hums, pensive. His heart clenches at the thought of Geralt avoiding his own family. Guilt creeps on him, its long, sharp claws burying themselves under his ribs. How dare he come to Geralt’s only home, his only place of peace and acceptance, and claim a place in his brother’s heart? He’s done a shit job of fulfilling Geralt’s wish of having him out of his life, hasn’t he?

A strong arm wraps around his shoulders, pulling him closer to the furnace of Eskel’s body.

“What’re you thinking of that makes you smell so sad, songbird?”

Jaskier smiles at the endearment. His wolf is generous with his affection, and Jaskier is selfish. He wants it all. But does he have any right to it, if he is taking it from Geralt?

“Do you think it’s because of us?” He asks, turning his head to rest his chin on Eskel’s sternum. “That Geralt is keeping to himself, I mean.”

Eskel frowns pensively. “I… don’t know. I suppose, in a way. But I think he’s mostly wallowing in his own self-loathing.”

“When isn’t he?” Jaskier teases.

The Witcher huffs, a sad half-smile tugging at his scars. “I was afraid he’d be jealous, or upset, hoping maybe it’d help him pull his head out of his own ass, but I’m afraid it’s buried even deeper than I thought.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I didn’t want to get between the two of you, but I know Geralt. He ain’t gonna do anything about it, and then he’ll regret it once it’s too late.”

That doesn’t make any sense. “Eskel, there’s nothing between me and Geralt.” Well, that’s not quite true. “I wanted there to be something, for a very long time, but… well, turns out I was the only one wanting it. If anything, I thought I was the one getting between the two of you.”

“Songbird, there hasn’t been anything but friendship between Geralt and I since before you were born.” Sadness clouds Eskel’s eyes for a second, and the piece Jaskier has been missing clicks into place.

“You and Geralt were together?” He asks, voice tight with emotion.

“Not sure we can even call it that,” a bitter smile twists Eskel’s scars in a painful grimace. “We found… comfort, with each other, when nothing else could give us that. But it hasn’t been like that in a very long time.”

“Why?”

Eskel shrugs with one shoulder, almost dislodging Jaskier from his position. “People change, songbird. And when you live as long as we do, well… you can’t expect things to stay the same forever. I’m glad we stayed as close as we are, despite him not wanting us to be anything other than friends anymore.”

The Witcher kisses the crown of Jaskier’s head and flicks his wrist, snuffing out the candles, a clear sign that the conversation is over. Jaskier doesn’t push, conscious this is a sensitive subject, but that doesn’t keep him from staring in the darkness for a long time after Eskel’s breaths have slowed and deepened, troubled by this new facet of the two men he loves.

Geralt’s reaction makes more sense now, why he would act so uncomfortable around Eskel and Jaskier now that the two of them are a thing. If Geralt still has feelings for his friend, then… seeing Jaskier, the man he hates and despises, whom he holds responsible for his every trouble (quite unfairly, in Jaskier’s opinion, but still), taking his place in the arms of the man he’s been in love with for longer than the bard has been alive… well, Jaskier can understand why he’d be upset.

There’s just a tiny bit of pettiness coming from the selfish, ugly part of him, that sings at the idea. Geralt broke his heart on that mountain top, isn’t it simple justice that Jaskier breaks his heart in turn?

But that line of thought is quickly smothered by guilt, and, more upsettingly, love. He’s loved Geralt for half his life now. No matter how hurt he might be, all he wants is for him to be happy. Or as happy as a self-loathing Witcher can be.

And it’s so obvious that Eskel loves him, too, now that Jaskier thinks about it. There’s a softness in his eyes and the corner of his mouth when he looks at Geralt that isn’t there when he’s around anyone else, an ease and a trust that Jaskier used to attribute to long term friendship but can only come from two bodies knowing each other intimately.

Jaskier can’t put himself between the two of them, can’t bear the idea of robbing both men of the little happiness they can find in a world that doesn’t accept them. And if he was Geralt, he would probably let Eskel down gently, taking himself out of the way and hoping the other two would get their shit together and talk, but he’s not, and if there’s a way that the three of them can find even a little satisfaction in this mess, then he’s going to try his best and make it happen.

He only hopes Geralt will listen to him.

It takes him a few days to work up the courage to approach the sullen White Wolf, and then another two to catch him alone, one night after dinner.

Unsurprisingly, he finds him in the stables, brushing down a Roach who seems more interested in nipping at Scorpion’s flanks than in the brooding Witcher in her stall. A wave of fondness overcomes Jaskier at the familiar sight, and he has to shake himself to remember what he’s come here to do.

“Geralt,” he says, softer than he intended. The Witcher doesn’t startle, but he tenses visibly, his grip on the brush turning white-knuckled. Jaskier lets out a trembling sigh, his resolve the only thing keeping him from turning away and finding shelter in Eskel’s arms to cry his heartache away. “We need to talk.”

Geralt doesn’t gratify him with an answer, like maybe if he ignores Jaskier long enough the bard will go away. How he didn’t learn that doesn’t work in the twenty years they’ve known each other, Jaskier has no idea.

“It’s about Eskel.” That, at least, has the merit to catch Geralt’s attention, the Witcher turning his head just enough to peek at Jaskier from the corner of his eye.

“He told me, about… about the two of you. What you were to each other.”

Geralt sucks in a harp breath. “It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago.”

And Jaskier can see this is a lie even with the Witcher turning his back to him. His heart clenches, for his best friend, despite everything that happened, and his lover, who have not allowed themselves to have what they both so visibly crave. “It does, though. It does matter. I’m not… I have no wish to keep you from each other, Geralt. I… I love him.” Jaskier chokes out, and something painful flashes in Geralt’s eyes. “And I… I…” he almost lets himself say it, bare his heart for Geralt to see, but he’s gotten too used to protecting himself, to hiding his most shameful truth. “I know you do, too.”

Geralt hangs his head between his shoulders, face hidden in the shadows, the warm, low light of the oil lamp he brought with him playing in his pale hair. “You’re making him happy. The two of you… you’re good, together. I am glad you found each other.”

“Are you really, Geralt? Because you’ve been avoiding us for weeks. It’s hurting him.” It’s hurting me, Jaskier doesn’t say, because none of this is about him. “Listen, I… I know you don’t want anything to do with me, I got that loud and clear, but if there’s a way… for us three to… to find satisfaction, then maybe…”

“Speak plainly, bard.”

Jaskier exhales, nerves making his throat tight. “You know I don’t believe in exclusive relationships,” and Geralt doesn’t, either; Yennefer and him both had lovers on the side, it was no secret between them. “If you and Eskel wanted to… start again where you left things, I see no issue with that. I want him to be happy, too. I… I want you to be happy, Geralt. You’re still important to me, even after everything.”

He’s said more than he wanted to, and Geralt doesn’t even deign to look at him. That’s so familiar it hurts. Jaskier smiles, an ugly thing full of regrets and unspoken words, and turns on his heels. He’s done his part. It’s up to Geralt to make a choice, now.

“Jaskier,” a broken voice says as a hand wraps around his wrist. He startles, and turns to find Geralt watching him with pleading eyes. It’s such an absurd sight, it leaves him speechless for a minute, and Geralt takes it as an encouragement to speak. The Witcher clears his throat. “I don’t… You’re…” the way he interrupts himself in obvious frustration, brow furrowed and lips thinned, is almost endearing. “You’re important to me, too.”

Tears swell in Jaskier’s eyes, and he tugs at his wrist to free it. Geralt lets him go without resistance.

“Please don’t lie to me, Geralt. I can take the hurt, I can take the rejection. But I won’t take the pity.” He almost spits the last sentence, and a surge of bitter satisfaction warms his painful heart at Geralt’s flinch.

“I’m not, I swear. I… I’ve missed you, Jask, I’ve missed you so much.” His voice is husky, weighed by shame and regret, and Jaskier has no doubt he is saying the truth. Geralt is a lot of things, but a good actor is not one of them. “There hasn’t been a day I haven’t thought about what I said to you after the dragon hunt. None of it was true, I… I was furious, but it wasn’t your fault. I’m so sorry.”

When Jaskier let himself dream of this moment, while walking down of the mountain or in the dark of the cell the Nilfargiaans kept him in, he’d imagined how he’d make Geralt grovel, how he’d tell him about every little thing Jaskier had ever done for him, to make his life easier, to show him how he could find happiness even on the Path.

As it is, Jaskier only stares at Geralt for a few seconds before tugging him into a crushing embrace. “Fuck, I’ve missed you too, you stupid Witcher.”

Geralt makes a wounded noise but lets himself be engulfed in Jaskier’s arms, tucking his nose in the hollow of his throat. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out, warm breath humid against the bard’s skin. “I wanted to come looking after you, but I had to make sure Ciri was safe…”

“I am glad you did,” Jaskier says, petting the hair at the nape of Geralt’s neck. “But why didn’t you say anything once Yennefer brought me to you? Geralt, we climbed up those damn mountains together. It’s been two months since we’ve been here. I thought you didn’t… that you didn’t want me here.”

Hands twist in the back of Jaskier’s thick woolen cape. “I didn’t know how to. While we were still on the Path I was worried about Nilfgaard catching up to us, about keeping Ciri and you fed and safe, and I thought this could wait until we were here. But then…” Geralt makes a frustrated noise so familiar it has Jaskier smiling in the crown of his head.

“Words were hard to find?”

He feels more than he sees Geralt’s nod. “And once you and Eskel became… involved, you seemed so much happier. I thought I’d only make things worse, and that you deserved to move on. To… forget about me. But I do want you here, Jaskier. If I had any right to it, I’d want you by my side always.”

A breath catches in Jaskier's throat, and tears prick at the corner of his eyes. Those are words he's dreamt of hearing for so many years, and he's finally hearing them now, in a stable smelling of horseshit and hay. It's so simple, so mundane, and yet he can barely bring himself to believe this is truly happening.

And maybe it's because he is stunned, or maybe because he's done hiding, but suddenly it feels so important that he says the truth.

"Geralt, you… you must know…" he pulls back, putting just enough distance between them that he can see Geralt's suspiciously red-rimmed eyes, that he can see how the Witcher reacts to his words. "I would have followed you anywhere, until my feet could carry me no more. You know that, right? I've never been subtle," he laughs wetly. Geralt is looking increasingly confused, like he has no idea what Jaskier is talking about, and that just doesn't make sense.

Making a frustrated sound, Jaskier twists his hands in the lapels of Geralt's thick winter coat, tugging him forward slowly so the Witcher can stop him if he wants.

But he doesn't, and their lips meet, harshly enough that Jaskier hopes it'll carry his meaning even through Geralt's thick skull.

It must work, because next thing he knows, he is being ravished quite thoroughly by an enthusiastic Witcher, a hand at the back of his head and another at the small of his back, under the hem of his cape. A thumb rubs circles at the base of his spine, and he's slowly melting into a puddle of contentment, his only thought a constant stream of this is happening, oh my fucking gods this is happening.

There's little time for the realization to set in, though, as a draft of cold wind fills the stables, and a soft "oh" pushes Jaskier and Geralt to separate.

Just outside of the circle of light cast by the oil lamp, Eskel stands watching them, eyebrows drawn up in surprise. Jaskier's guts clench in guilt and he steps away from Geralt hurriedly. "Eskel, it's not-" what you think, he doesn't finish, because that is a lie, and Eskel deserves better than lies.

But there's little else Jaskier can say to justify how Eskel just found him, kissing his best friend and former lover passionately in the middle of the night, when he should have been back in their shared bed an hour ago.

He knew he'd fuck up somehow. That's so classic.

The three of them are silent for a heartbeat, the horses shifting in their stalls the only noise in the cramped space, and Jaskier wants to cross the space between Eskel and him so badly, but he knows he doesn't have the right to, and it's killing him.

Just when his agony reaches a peak, Eskel's mouth curls at the corner, softness blooming in his eyes. "I see you've gotten your shit together," he says. " 's about time."

This is so completely out of what Jaskier expected him to say that he doesn’t manage to find a suitable answer. Surprisingly, Geralt is the one to talk next.

“I’m not going to take him from you,” he says cautiously.

“I know,” Eskel grins. “I know that if I asked you you would never even look at him again.”

Jaskier spares a glance for Geralt, and a pit opens in his gut at the acceptance he finds in his eyes.

“But that would make the three of us miserable,” Eskel adds. “And I won’t do that to Jaskier, or to you.”

“Eskel, what are you saying?” If his soft-hearted Witcher is suggesting what Jaskier thinks he is…

“I don’t see why things between us should change, songbird, if you wished to spend some nights in Geralt’s bed. Of course, if you two want to be exclusive to each other,” the first glimmer of doubt insinuates itself in Eskel’s kind voice, but he keeps speaking bravely, “then I will not impose myself.”

“No!” Jaskier says, a little too loud, his hand shooting up to grip at Eskel’s wrist. Roach nickers irritably in her stall at the disturbance.

“I… I mean, if both you and Geralt are amenable, there is space in my bed for the two of you.”

Eskel’s dark eyebrow arches. “Don’t you mean in my bed?”

But his hand closes around Jaskier’s reassuringly, warm and soft as he looks at Geralt. “What do you say, Wolf?”

And Geralt is watching them both with equal part fear and want in his eyes, like his deepest desire is just in reach but he isn’t sure if it’s not going to burn him at the first touch. Jaskier extends his free hand, and he can feel Eskel tensing infinitesimally beside him, careful to keep a relaxed posture, but as worried as Jaskier that their white-haired Witcher is going to bolt out the door to a more familiar loneliness.

Geralt surprises them both by taking Jaskier’s hand with an air of firm resolution, crossing the space between them slowly until he stands close enough to share their warmth. Eskel raises his left hand, cupping Geralt’s jaw with infinite softness. Jaskier can see in his eyes the same pride he is feeling himself, at their white wolf’s bravery.

The air leaves Jaskier’s lungs in a rush when the two men’s lips meet like they weren’t ever meant to part. The contrast of Eskel’s golden skin against Geralt’s milky one is the most beautiful work of art he’s ever been given to see, and the tight heat in his lower belly tells him he wants to see more of it, now.

The two Witchers kiss for a long minute, Jaskier watching them with naked hunger and want, but for once not in a hurry to claim the attention back on himself. He makes an involuntary noise when Eskel nips at Geralt’s lower lip playfully, and two burning golden gazes turn on him. It’s so intense, so heavy, that another breath leaves Jaskier with a wheeze. A grin is spreading on Eskel’s handsome features, and Geralt’s eyes sparkle with interest.

“What do you think, Wolf? Do you think the two of us will be enough to satisfy our little bard?”

And oh, Jaskier does so want them to try.

Jaskier often prides himself loudly and brazenly of his carnal exploits as an Oxenfurt student and travelling bard. He’s had sex with numerous people of all genders and races, sometimes several at the same time, and has been praised for being a generous and enthusiastic lover.

Never has he been so overwhelmed after only a few minutes of foreplay.

There’s a cock down his throat and fingers in his arse and he’s trembling all over. Eskel is soothing him with a palm to his side, murmuring praise as he pushes three thick, oiled fingers to Jaskier’s prostate.

Geralt is brushing a hand down his cheek, feeling his own cock through the stretched skin. Jaskier sucks and licks with single-minded focus, moaning and wiggling when Eskel executes a particularly well-aimed thrust.

“Look at him, asking for more even when he’s stuffed full,” Eskel smugly says to Geralt as he gives a sharp slap to the bard’s arse. Jaskier yelps and jumps forward, Geralt’s cock hitting the back of his throat. He chokes and gags but doesn’t relent, breathing through his nose expertly. Geralt wipes the tears from his cheeks, the tender motion in stark contrast with his curses and animalistic grunts. It’s a contradiction Jaskier is quickly becoming addicted to.

He's so focused on his worship of Geralt's glorious cock he doesn't notice Eskel's fingers slipping out of his hole before they are replaced with the fat head of his prick. He gasps, letting Geralt's hard length slip out of his mouth, resting his temple against his hip as he breathes through the intrusion. He still hasn't gotten used to Eskel's girth, the stretch leaving him drooling and dazed every time.

They're all still as Jaskier accommodates it, testing the sensation with little clenches of his arse that have Eskel grunting and squeezing the plump flesh of his cheeks.

"'m good, you can move," Jaskier mumbles in the dip of Geralt's hip, and Eskel pulls out to execute a few shallow thrusts, getting the both of them used to the new sensations.

When he picks up speed, a hand threads in Jaskier's hair, pulling him to look up and meet a painfully tender gaze. Geralt holds him with one hand, the other grasping his own cock and guiding it back into Jaskier’s begging mouth, smearing a trail of pre-come on his cheek on the way.

It's easy to lose himself into it after that. He is full, warm and content, and he wishes he could stay that way forever, pinned between his two lovers, pleasing them with his wet mouth and his tight arse. Used for their pleasure alone.

He's only human, though, and his stamina can't compare to two Witchers'. He spills almost as soon as Eskel gets a hand on his cock, his wails muffled by Geralt's.

Geralt is caring enough to let Jaskier breathe as he comes down, cradling the bard’s face in his hands, but Eskel doesn't pull out. They've talked about each other's boundaries at length, he knows Jaskier can take more.

He's brushing his thumb where Jaskier and him are connected, hole fluttering with the last spasms of his orgasm. Jaskier whimpers at the sensation.

"Damn, you always get so loose and sloppy when you've come… do you think you could take the two of us like this?"

Jaskier's chest swells with a sob at the thought, arms trembling where they struggle to keep him up. The fingers around his jaw squeeze lightly, demanding his attention, and he meets Geralt's gaze once again.

"Answer to Eskel, pretty lark," Geralt rumbles. "Is it too much? Do you want more?"

"Yes," Jaskier manages to slur. "More, please. I want… I want both of you."

Geralt's pupils expand impossibly larger, and he bends to kiss Jaskier languidly.

He's a very thorough kisser, grunting at the taste of himself on Jaskier's tongue. Tears well up in Jaskier's eyes as emotion seizes his heart. Finally, he thinks, finally, I get to have him.

He shouts in the kiss, breaking their connection, when Eskel's thumb slips along his cock in Jaskier's hole.

The stretch is intense, even with how relaxed Jaskier is from his climax, and his arms give out, his face squashing into the mattress with a moan.

Geralt chuckles above him before gathering the weak bard into his arms, shuffling them so Jaskier is propped against his chest, while Eskel keeps opening him from behind.

It’s too warm there, pinned between his two Witchers, but Jaskier doesn’t have any complaint. Geralt resumes kissing him to distract him from the almost too intense stretch, and it works. When his breath grows too ragged, Geralt frees his lips and lets him rest his head against his shoulder for a second, lungs expanding with deep gulps of breath. Geralt and Eskel talk in hushed voices, but he can’t focus on what they’re saying, his every thought gathering around the point where he is stretched wider than he’s ever been around Eskel’s cock and fingers.

He is manhandled without difficulty, until he is straddling Geralt’s lap, Eskel still buried hilt deep in him, Geralt mouthing at his neck, two pairs of large hands roaming his sides, his back, his stomach.

“You ready, songbird?” Eskel rumbles in his ear, the low timbre of his voice piercing through the thick fog in Jaskier’s fucked out brain.

The bard nods into Geralt’s shoulder, whining pitifully.

“Did you actually manage to fuck words out of him, Eskel?” Geralt says with a hint of humour, squeezing Jaskier against him affectionately. “Might have to give you a medal for that.”

“Hm. What about a kiss?”

Jaskier smiles groggily at the sounds of intense making-out next to his ear, turning his head to admire the view. Geralt and Eskel truly are gorgeous together, skins lit by the candles, sweat beading on their foreheads, a drop rolling down the crease of one of Eskel’s scars to where his lips join Geralt’s. Their kiss is all teeth and tongue, playful and nipping, fighting for a control none of them truly cares about. It’s a sight Jaskier hopes to be graced with every day of his life from now on.

But for now, impatience is making him clench and grind around Eskel, who breaks his and Geralt’s kiss to grunt. “We haven’t forgotten about you, songbird, don’t worry.”

He cups Jaskier’s cheek in his hand to meet his lips, tasting of Geralt and himself.

There’s a new pressure at Jaskier’s entrance and he gasps in Eskel’s mouth when he realizes it’s Geralt’s cock pushing inside him. The three of them moan in unison when it gets past the ring of muscles and slides besides Eskel’s prick. They stay still, panting for a few moments, until Jaskier garbles a “move” and Eskel complies, taking the lead. Geralt, carrying most of Jaskier’s weight, is slower at the beginning, but picks up speed, moving in counterpart to Eskel, never leaving Jaskier empty even for a single second. They hit his prostate with every thrust in, overwhelming him so quickly he’s only a ragdoll between the two of them after only a few minutes of the same treatment.

Eskel and Geralt lavish his throat and shoulders with soft bites and soothing licks, meeting for a kiss over him once or twice.

Jaskier comes quickly, his cock rutting against Geralt’s toned abs, the friction barely enough to have him tip over the edge, coating the rippling muscles in thick white come. Eskel follows him rapidly, his thrusts growing erratic until he spills deep into Jaskier’s ass, whispering his name reverently in the short hair at the nape of his neck. Geralt joins them after a few more thrusts, grunting his release into Jaskier’s collarbone, goosebumps breaking over the skin of his back.

The Witchers’ softening pricks slip out of his ass and Jaskier hisses at the sudden chill of emptiness. A dribble of come drips from his sensitive hole, gaping and fluttering, and Eskel takes a sharp intake of breath at the sight, fingers coming to brush the abused flesh. Jaskier whimpers in protest, too tired to move, and Geralt shushes him with a kiss to the tip of his nose.

They bring him down to the mattress, arranging his limbs comfortably. One of them - Jaskier doesn’t open his eyes to check which - gets up and brings back a rag to clean him up and a waterskin, bullying him to drink even though all he wants is to lie down and sleep.

Finally, they all snuggle up together on the bed that is slightly too small for three grown men, the room stinking of sex.

There will be a lot to talk about, tomorrow when they wake up, but for now Jaskier buries his nose in the crook of Geralt’s neck, Eskel plastered to his back, both their hands meeting on his chest, over his slowly beating heart. Content. Warm. Jaskier drifts off with a smile on his face and a new song in his mind.

#the witcher #jaskier #eskel #geralt #jaskier/eskel/geralt #geraskel #my writing #prompt fill #nsft #greyduckgreygoose

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