#[ these are my thoughts and opinions and if you got venison then get in my DMs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-chosen-fanfiction · 1 year

Text

Yussif | Planting A Seed Of Faith | Romantic

Requested: Yes

A mysterious stranger asks you about Jesus and you’re keen on sharing more, only to find out that he is very kind.

In spite of the itchiness of the woollen cloak, Yussif carries on in his disguise. The words he had heard from the Rabbi his peer Shmuel had been investigating still echo inside his mind, followed by a sleepless night and countless questions that keep him puzzled.

He understands the interest of Rabbi Nicodemus and has in turn started to seek out information himself, which is what brings him here, in the streets of Jerusalem. Yussif has tailed Jesus and His followers all the way from Capernaum, which makes him feel kind of bad, but his determination to get to know more drives him to this pursuit and somehow condones it, at least in his own opinion.

A few of Jesus’ followers are currently standing at a market stall, bickering over which kind of meat to choose to go with the stew tonight. Yussif recognises one of them to be Andrew, but the other two do not ring a bell. Slowly, he walks towards them, listening in on their conversation whilst pretending to browse through the wares of the adjacent stall.

“–No, Thomas, how could you possibly think that venison goes well with the spices Little James has just picked?” Andrew brings up, obviously irritated with his friend, who lets out a sound of offence.

“You’re a connoisseur, aren’t you, Andrew?” he sarcastically counters, “It’s not like I’ve been a vintner for years whilst you were out fishing!”

Yussif lets his eyes go over the goods but shows no real interest, instead focused on the three men beside him.

“Hey, that’s low! Plus, that means you know stuff about wine, not that you know stuff about food!”

Thomas scoffs. “It means that I know what goes well with certain types of wine. If you’ve got the young kind of wine, freshly pressed, you’d do well to pair it with—”

Andrew makes a movement with his hand in the air. “Blah-blah-blah. I don’t care, Thomas! Let’s just choose some meat and get out of here!”

“Come on guys,” Little James sighs, finally able to talk over the two arguing men, “All of us are hungry, especially Jesus, so I think we’d do best to just choose something and hit the road.”

Thomas sighs. “Well, we have to wait for (Y/n) anyways.”

It earns an acknowledging hum from the other two.

“What do you think Jesus wanted to tell us?” Yussif’s breath hitches as he tries to listen closely, pretending to be interested in a few selections of condiments the vendor sells, who is looking at him strangely, for he doubts that the Rabbi will buy something from him.

Little James leans on his walking stick and lets out a thoughtful sound. “After that miracle, He just—”

“Are you eavesdropping on my friends?”

An unfamiliar female voice startles Yussif so much that he nearly yelps, and in shock, he turns sharply to the sound. The three Disciples also let their attention go to the owner of that voice – you – as you stand with a hand on your hip and a basket on your arm filled with eggs.

Yussif stutters. “A-Ah, I’m sorry? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You raise an eyebrow. “The past few minutes, I’ve been observing your behaviour and noticed you’re moving closer towards them, but you’re showing no interest in buying anything from the market stall. The way you’re skimming through the wares is not that believable.”

The Rabbi’s gaze goes from you to the three followers, back to you. He pulls his hood a little tighter over his head to shield himself as he observes you a little closer. (H/c) hair peeks out from underneath the light drape you wear over it, and your face is quite wonderful to look at. He immediately wonders if you had been with the group for a long time, but he knows that you haven’t. After all, he would have remembered those (e/c) eyes of yours.

“I…” he stutters, all words failing him. “You’re followers of Jesus, right? You, too?” He nods towards you, and you raise your eyebrows in question.

“Are you from the Sanhedrin or something?”

Yussif lets out a shivering breath. “N-No, I’m just… Trying to find out more. Can I… Can I talk to you in a more quiet area?”

“Please step away from the lady, sir.” Andrew pipes up, “She’s with us.”

Your eyes narrow at the man and you raise your hand at Thomas as he attempts to intersect himself between you and the stranger. “Thank you, Thomas, it’s alright. I can talk to this man for a few minutes. I’ll… I’ll be fine, you three go back to camp already.”

“And leave you behind with some random stranger? I don’t think so, (Y/n),” Andrew counters. Yussif clears his throat, averting his gaze lest he be recognised by any of the three followers.

You sigh and then nod. “Fine.” you state, handing the basket of eggs to Thomas, who takes them with a slight huff. “You boys finally decide on what kind of meat to buy. Go for either venison or goose, it really doesn’t matter for this dish. In the meantime, I’ll try and find a spot to talk to you, sir.”

Yussif gratefully curtsies and the three Disciples are briefly in conflict on what to do, but you give them a warning glare. “Come find me in ten minutes. No sooner.”

Andrew huffs, shrugging in some sort of acknowledgement. He isn’t necessarily pleased, but knows that he cannot say no to you. “Fine,” he agrees.

“I’ll see you boys soon. Come on, sir.”

With Yussif right behind you, you walk through the streets until you come across a secluded alleyway, where only a few rats scurry about. You gesture towards it and the pair of you head into it, finding some privacy.

“So, what’s your name?” you want to know, “You’ve heard mine already, so I’m curious to hear what yours is.”

His eyes search your questioning face, wondering if he should reveal his name, but he’s almost certain that none of the Disciples have mentioned him to you, for why would they? “It’s Yussif,” you say, “I’m from… From Capernaum.”

You slowly nod and smile softly. “Well, good to meet you, Yussif. Forgive me for the boys back there, they tend to be a bit paranoid when it comes to matters like this. I am indeed a follower of Jesus. And judging by your face, I think you’re… How to put it… Trustworthy to hear more about it? I mean to say that you don’t strike me as a threatening person, is all.”

A soft sound of amusement leaves your lips and Yussif cannot help but mirror it. The sound makes his gut pleasantly tingle with how light it sounds. He is almost inclined to ask how he has never seen you before, but he knows that he can’t reveal how he knows the other followers already, and that he has observed the group from afar in the wake of the events of the past weeks.

“So, this Jesus. How did you meet Him?” Yussif inquires. The kindness behind his eyes is visible from under his hood and you are drawn to them as well as to the sweet smile that accompanies it.

“Ah, He healed me,” you say, “I had this strange, painful bump in my…” You flush in embarrassment and put a hand on your chest, “This area, and He took it away from me. The least I can do to pay Him back is to join His ministry.”

Yussif catches himself thinking that your abashed character is endearing. Despite the severity of your story, your gentle nature is refreshing.

“I-I’m glad to hear that you’ve been healed.” he states, “I’ve heard of the miracles, hence my curiosity.” You give a small bow of your head and hum. “Do you… Have you been with Him for long?”

“A few weeks now,” you confide, “I’m from Betsaïda.” It explains why Yussif has never seen you before, for he had been a day trip behind constantly, and he gives you a kind grin.

Then, he tilts his head and queries: “You… Happen to know where He is now, right?”

A tad apologetic, you rub your neck. “As a matter-of-fact, I do, but all of us are very exhausted from our trip here, so I don’t think the Rabbi is keen on receiving visitors tonight.”

Yussif slightly shakes his head. “Ah, I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries, but I just… I want to know something.” He looks over his shoulder to see if anyone is listening in on you before stepping closer, lowering the volume of his voice. His proximity makes you feel inexplicably bubbly on the inside and you momentarily imagine this stranger joining the group as a follower, which you wouldn’t mind.

“Do you think He is the Messiah we’ve been waiting for?” Yussif whispers.

You stare at him for a long moment, eyes locking with his, and something like a spark seems to ignite whilst you contemplate your response.

“Yes.” you breathe at last, shy at his closeness. “I am certain that He is. The things He does… The miracles, the prophecies… There is no doubt about it.” It is dangerous to say these words out loud, but for some reason, you trust him with it.

Yussif gawks at you for a few seconds, no sound coming out of his mouth. “Right…” he then mutters, “Right. I… I want to speak to Him. Please.”

You bite your bottom lip as he pleadingly looks at you. “Please…” he once again whispers.

For a moment, you look out into the busy street to see if Andrew has shown up yet, but the former fisherman is nowhere to be found. Leaning closer, you whisper: “As long as you promise to not show up before the sun is up tomorrow.”

“You have my word.”

“Okay.” You tell him the place where the camp has been set up, just on the outskirts of town, and Yussif gives you a grateful smile.

“Thank you so much, (Y/n).” he breathes, grinning widely. “I can’t… Can’t wait to see Him and ask the questions that I have. I owe you.”

You give him a sheepish smile and fold your hands in front of you timidly. “Of course.” you say with a small shrug, “It’s nothing, really.”

“Nonsense,” Yussif counters. “You are a very kind woman. Your husband must be very happy with you.”

Your cheeks flush. “I’m not married.”

His heart skips a beat. “You’re not?”

Shaking your head, you open your mouth to speak up that you aren’t betrothed when a certain curly-haired Disciple suddenly pops up around the corner, calling your name.

“There you are! I was already worried sick, and—” His gaze falls upon the Rabbi who is standing with you, his face not covered enough to hide his identity anymore, and Andrew’s jaw falls agape.

“Rabbi Yussif?”

You blink in puzzlement, your gut feeling strange. “You–You know each other?”

Yussif lowers his gaze and steps back. “F-Forgive me, I meant no subterfuge. I’ve… I’ve followed your group and your Rabbi all the way from Capernaum, because I want to know more… Nicodemus’ accounts are… Well, I just need to know more, that’s all.”

Andrew exhales and seems to relax. “Right.” he sighs. “You can see the Rabbi, but not before tomorrow—”

“I know,” Yussif interrupts, “I’ve just spoken to (Y/n) about it. Again, I’m sorry for concealing my true identity from you, (Y/n), I just… Wasn’t familiar with you yet and wasn’t sure if you knew me.”

You can’t fight the small smile playing over your lips. “Andrew seems to trust you, so I think we’re alright, Yussif.”

His face lights up. “Thank you. I, uh… I will no longer outstay my welcome and leave you to your business, you must be starving. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, alright? Shalom shalom. Have a good evening.”

“Shalom shalom, Yussif. Erev tov.”

Pulling his cloak a little tighter around his head again, Yussif hurries away. Both you and Andrew look after him as he goes, and once he turns the corner, Andrew chuckles.

In surprise, you look at the former fisherman. “Hm? What is it?”

Andrew gives you an amused look and raises his shoulders. “I don’t know, you tell me! You seem to be very charmed by him, that's all.”

With crimson cheeks, you let a scoff escape you. “That was before I knew he was a Rabbi.”

“Well, that doesn’t have to mean anything when it comes to love. A lot of Rabbi’s are married, you know?”

“Love? M-Married? What– Andrew! I’ve only just met the man!”

He laughs heartily, throwing back his head. “Look at you, (Y/n)! I wouldn’t believe your claim to being indifferent for just a second! Come on, let’s go back to camp. I’m sure you’ll need plenty of time to prepare for tomorrow!”

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. “You’re lucky I gave my basket of eggs to Thomas earlier, otherwise I would have broken one right against that thick skull of yours!”

Andrew is unfazed by this threat. “Oh, I would have loved you doing that, for it makes my hair so shiny! But don’t worry, (Y/n). Yussif is one of the… Kinder Rabbi’s, and, if you ask me, he might be very close to becoming a believer…!”

Wiggling his eyebrows, he gives you a wide grin, and you slap him against the arm.

“Stop it.” you hiss, “I can still put eggs into your bedroll!”

Your words do not cease Andrew’s teasing on the way back to camp. Hopefully, he will not reveal anything about this encounter to the others, even though there is truth to his suspicions.

#the chosen x reader #the chosen #the chosen yussif #yussif x reader #reader insert #the chosen fanfiction #chosen fanfiction #angel studios #rabbi yussif x reader

22 notes · View notes

silverwolfstuff · 8 days

Text

CHAPTER SIX (RadioDust)Human au: Anthony and Alastor

8:14 amRadio Station- January 14

“Good morning, New Orleans. We’re back for this morning’s radio broadcast. Ah. Hello, Rosie. Charmed as always to hear you joining us today,” Alastor spoke into his microphone. Alastor Hartfelt, age twenty two, was New Orleans most popular radio broadcaster. Granted the man was asexual, a cannibal, and a hunter, he had a mother who loved him and a loving boyfriend who had just moved down to Lousianna after getting kicked out of his family’s business for “bein’ a faggot”. The don’s words not his or Anthony’s. After Alastor finished with his broadcast, he answered the ringing phone beside him. Smiling, he answered.

“Alastor speaking.”

“Heya, Al!” “Ah! Mon cher, pleasure hearing your voice this lovely morning. Is everything alright?”

“Erm. Kinda? I’m sorta ina situation…” Alastor scowled a little bit and rubbed his eyes from under his glasses.

“What did you do this time?”

“I didn’ do shit! My brotha got ‘imself sorta in a problem… I’m at the station. Can ya come get me, please?”

“...”

“Al?”

“Alright. Alright. I’ll be there shortly. Stay safe. I love you, mon amour.”

“Love ya too, Smiles!”

Alastor groaned as he set the phone on the rotary before he put his waistcoat on, asking Rosie to cover for him before he grabbed his knife, slipping it into his coat pocket and headed out. He always had some sort of weapon on him for various occasions. Whether or not it was intended, he still had a sharp tool on him. It didn’t take him long to walk down to the train station and smile more when he saw Anthony and who he assumed was his brother.

“Al!” He caught the blonde in his arms and spun him around, kissing him gently.

“Hello, Anthony, dear. I am assuming this is your brother, no?”

“Yeah. Sal, this is my man, Alastor. Al, meet my brotha Salvatore." The taller man gave a curt nod to Anthony’s brother and mustered a tight smile.

“Dis the guy you’re datin’, To- Ack!!! Molls! Arthur!” Sal beamed when he was knocked to the ground by his boyfriend and his younger sister, Molly who was Anthony’s twin sister. Alastor cursed in French, checking the time by looking at his pocket watch. Sighing quietly, he rocked impatiently on his heels.

“You alright, Al?” Anthony asked his boyfriend, locking their hands together. The brunette hummed in reply, nodding.

“I’m quite alright, my dear. Hello, Molly. Pleasure to see you again,” he smiled at his lover’s twin sister, arms crossed behind his back. The blonde shared a look with his sister and his brother before shrugging. The siblings talked as Alastor led them towards his and Anthony’s apartment. It wasn’t a long walk as they lived fairly close by but it was also close by the radio station as well. He tipped his hat off to the local baker. Alastor was sort of…. Feared in these parts of Louisiana, partially because he was nicknamed the Radio Host of New Orleans when in reality he was only running a simple radio show with Rosie and from time to time Anthony joined them granted the blonde had his own radio show about his opinions on the clothing options and models that was happening in the current time period. As they walked, Alastor got lost in thought, allowing Anthony to keep his arm around his waist and stay close to his side. He thought about when they first met and how they were here now. He smiled to himself, wrapping an arm around Anthony’s waist himself, keeping the blonde close to his side. He remembered when they first met, which was two years ago. In three days it would mark three years that they’d have been together.

When they first met, it had been a chilly autumn day in New Orleans, Louisiana. It was late August, early September. The leaves were falling and Alastor had been in a good mood, having finished his radio broadcast for the day and had gone out to hunt deer. He had a…. Unique taste for venison, which was deer meat. Had it been a pleasant hunt, capturing his dinner, he’d gone home the long way, thanking Rosie for helping him get the dead deer inside of the apartment complex. As he’d gone out to throw something away behind the apartment complex, he heard pleas for help. Poking his head around the corner, he came across a lovely looking blonde man. No younger than himself mind you. He seemed to pick up on the setting and the situation he was in. Taking his blade out from his ankle, he approached the smaller male and the group of gangsters… And Valentino…

“These men giving you trouble, my dear?” Alastor asked, spinning his knife in his right hand and held out his left for the blonde to take, offering his help towards the sweet seeming man who was on the ground.Anthony, no less than the age of twenty one, had just moved out of the big city and into the bayou, well he moved into New Orleans about a month and a half ago. . He’d been kicked out of the family’s mafia business for “bein’ a fag!” The Don’s words, not his. He didn’t want anything to do with his family anyways, well except for his twin sister and older brother. Their mother had died from cancer when they were only five, making Salvatore eleven at the time, so he didn’t have a motherly figure in the household though Molly, his twin sister, acted like the mother they needed sometimes. He’d moved into Louisiana to hopefully find someone that he could love and hopefully find a job. He’d moved into an apartment (that he hadn’t realised was right across from Alastor’s). All day he’d been looking for a job, finally finding one as a porn star, working for a man who’s name was Valentino. He took it. Whatever he could get his hands on and that would be getting paid. He took it. He was now on his way back home, where he’d suddenly been pushed against the wall by a man who was definitely stronger than he was. He knew he was good looking but he wasn’t a whore. Well…. Okay. Sometimes he dressed like that. He’d been dressed like one after his shift. He was wearing a short skirt, a white and pink striped shirt and was wearing a tan overcoat, and his usual black heels.

“If ya wanna fuck me, I charge for it,” he said and tried to push himself off of the wall and get out of the man’s grasp. He gasped when he was tossed to the ground, feeling like the wind was knocked out of him. He coughed, already having asthma so this made it worse.

“You’re Val’s new employee, aren’t ya?” asked the shorter man of the group. Anthony looked…. Confused?

“Yeah…? What’s it to ya? Like I said, I charge if ya wanna fuc~,” he started, getting cut off when he was grabbed by the collar of his shirt and was forced to breathe in red smoke. Valentino.

“Mista Valentino….” The blonde backed against the wall. He was already exhausted granted he only had a twelve hour shift but he’d been at it for what felt like hours. The tan skinned male who stood before him, blew more red smoke towards him. This lasted a few more times, and he didn’t know how much time had passed before he’d jumped nearly a foot in the air when he heard a voice that was unfamiliar beside him. He looked up from where he was on the ground, coughing as Valentino blew more smoke.

“These men giving you trouble, my dear?” Damn, he sounded majestic. He took the offered hand, turning to cough into his arm, finding it difficult to breathe. The man beside him spun his knife.

“You’re in my turf, gentlemen. I suggest you leave. You never know, you could become mine or my dear friend, Rosie’s next meal,” he laughed, finding it amusing that he’d scared the other male. After the group left, he tucked his knife away and placed a gentle hand on Anthony’s shoulder.

“My dear, are you….” He noticed the bruising on his neck and his arms. Alastor pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing softly. Anthony looked at him once he got his breathing under control.

“T-Thank you…. Mista…?”

“Alastor, my dear. Pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure.”

After that day, they talked more and more, eventually Alastor was able to pull a few strings and Anthony was free of Valentino’s grasp. Well. For the time. The two got along well after a few more times and eventually, Alastor finally lost it with what Valentino was making Anthony do, so…. Let’s just say Alastor came home with blood on his hands and that was a long and memorable night for both men.

“Al!” The brunette was pulled back into reality, looking at his beloved. He smiled and squeezed his hand softly.

“You okay, Al? Haven’t seen ya this spaced out in forevah,” Antony smiled and leaned up to kiss his cheek, beaming brightly. “Molls is gonna stay wit us. You okay with that, babe?”

“Yes, Anthony. I’m quite alright with it. I can get a chance to catch up on my book that you got me for my birthday,” Alastor smiled and kissed the back of his hand as he led the group to his and Anthony’s apartment. Molly beamed and immediately went to the kitchen while her twin brother pulled Alastor towards their bedroom so they could change into something more comfortable. Alastor smiled and allowed himself to be tugged down the hallway. Once they were in their bedroom, he took his shoes off and placed them on the shelf, undoing his bow tie and changed into a red button up, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, black slacks and cleaned his glasses off. He caught his boyfriend’s gaze and flushed a little, looking the other way.

“Even when we’re not working, you always look so damn hot!” Anthony whined, sliding a pink t-shirt over his head and kissed Al on his cheek, smiling.

“Thank you for the compliment, Mon ange,” Alastor smiled and gently pulled Anthony into a small kiss, keeping an arm around his waist, keeping him close to his chest. He held the smaller male close to his touch. He gently rubbed his back as he kept his lover close to his chest, idli making out with him. Keeping the kisses simple and loving.

“Mmm…. Al…. We still- Ack! Sal! What t’fuck?!” The two jumped apart when Sal had opened the door to the bedroom and video recorded them.

“What? Can I not have some fun?” Sal retorted, smirking behind the camcorder. Alastor growled a little and backed away from the video camera.

“This face was made for radio, my dear,” he grumbled, softly squeezing Anthony’s hand before he headed downstairs to assist Molly in preparing food. Anthony glared at his brother and his brother’s lover.

“Sal. Don’t fuck dis up. Please. You’re my older brotha,” he said, walking out after stopping the recording and tucked it away in his pocket for now. Sal frowned and sighed softly, knowing he was right. Arthur looked at Sal and gently squeezed his shoulder, kissing his forehead before leading them downstairs to join the others for lunch.

After lunch, Sal and Arthur had left to retire back to their apartment. Molly stayed a while longer, playing with her coffee mug. She watched as Alastor lay on Anthony’s chest, keeping his arms around his waist. Softly humming, Anthony stroked back Al’s hair and softly combed his fingers through his hair.

“You sure you can trust ‘im, Tone?” Molly asked, playing with her bracelets. Anthony looked up at his sister and bit his lip, softly running his fingers through Al’s hair, knowing it helped Al stay asleep.

“Yeah…. I trust him wit’ mah life, Molls…. I know he seems…. Intimidating? He really ain’t, Mol. He’s real sweet…. Takes care of me…. Doesn’t force me ta do shit I don’t want ta do…. Saved me. He saved me, Molls…. Sure he’s a cannibal and a hunter but our family is jacked up so…. Could it get worse? Plus…. He wouldn’t eva hurt me…” he said, looking at Al while he said this and smiled when he saw those red and brown irises stare lovingly at him. He cupped his cheeks and kissed him gently on the mouth. Molly frowned with a small sigh.

“Okay. If he hurts ya or anythin’, I swear to god, Tony….” she said and gave her brother a hug, saying her goodnights to the two before heading out towards her own apartment. Anthony smiled gently and nodded, quietly sighing and shifted so he was laying on his back and Al was on top of him.

“Al?”

“Yes, Mon Cher?”

“You won’t hurt me…. Righ’?”

“If I wanted to, I would have already done so, my sweet angel,” Al said and gently kissed Anthony on his mouth, rubbing his waist gently. Anthony smiled and kissed back softly, keeping his arms around his waist. When a few minutes passed, Alastor crawled off of his lover, extending a hand out for Anthony to take, pulling the blonde to his feet. Dipping him into a kiss, he then led them to the bedroom where they got ready for bed. Anthony smiled a little bit and nodded as he got changed into pink shorts and nothing else. Alastor smiled, getting changed into his usual silk red sleepwear. After the two had changed, they lay in bed together with one of Al’s radio stations playing smooth jazz music.

“G’night, Al,” Anthony whispered, laying on top of the taller male. Alastor smiled and nuzzled their noses together.

“Goodnight, mon ange,” Alastor whispered, spooning the other male, knowing it helped him fall asleep. The two fell asleep comfortably in one another’s arms, safe and content.

9:14 amJanuary 21The following morning, Anthony was the first to wake up. He smelled something being cooked and beamed when he realised it was Al making beignets. He loved it when his boyfriend cooked. Eagerly he stood up and slipped on his robe and headed towards the kitchen, frowning when he only saw… Someone who wasn’t Alastor?

“Who da fuck are you?” he asked, gingerly reaching for the knife that was always kept on the table near the stairs. The woman who was standing in the kitchen, looked over her shoulder. She had long brown and copper hair that was tied back into a french braid. She beamed when she saw Anthony up. She looked older than himself and Al together. Late forties maybe? He couldn’t tell. He blinked; blue eyes meeting brown… Wait. Brown and red. Was this Al’s mom?! He paled and immediately started to ramble in Italian, texting Alastor and panicking.

9:20 am<Tony> AL!?! YOU COULD HAVE TOLD ME YOUR MA WAS GONNA BE HERE!!!

9:21 am<Strawberry babe <3>

Ah. You’ve met my mother. I left a note on the nightstand, my dear. I had to go out for a few minutes to get the show going for a few. Ma’s there for a bit until I get back. You two might share a few common traits. I’ll be home soon, darling!

Angel groaned as he read the text from Al and grumbled as he sat down at the kitchen counter, looking up when he was handed a cup of coffee.

“Just the way you like, hun. He told me all about you. Don’t worry, I don’t bite,” the woman laughed and smiled at Anthony as he raised his cup midway to his mouth and took a small sip. He nodded and ran his hands through his unruly blonde hair. He idly played with the rim of his coffee cup, unsure how to start a conversation.

“Anthony, wasn’t it?” The blonde looked up and nodded, shy.

“Yeah... It is... Prob'ly ain't heard a' me cause I moved down from the city ta the bayou... Guess it was a change of scenery but mostly cause o' my pops. Was in the family biz.... Mafia, y'know? We all was. Molls, my twin sister and Sal, my brotha. Ma passed when Mol and I were five, makin' Sal eleven at the time... Sorry. I'm talkin' too much,” Anthony rambled, pushing his hands through his hair again. The woman frowned and set down the utensil she was using and gave him a tight hug.

“I can only imagine, my dear… Ya know… Raisin’ Al wasn’t easy for me nutha. Name’s Maybel by the way. Maybel Heartfelt. As I was sayin’… Alastor don’t like talkin’ ‘bout this but… You been with him long enough… Al’s pa, John. He wasn’t the best to either of us, Al or myself. I don’t know how I put up with such a… A”

“Asshole?”

"Yeah... That. But... He was cold to both of us. Tol Al “don’t say nothin' unless spoken to”... He was a drunk. Took his anger out on me. I had Al's back, did my best to keep him outta trouble…” Maybel told Anthony, telling him about the part of Al’s life that was vulnerable to him. Anthony listened, keen on wanting to know more about his boyfriend. He had barely heard the front door opening but looked over when he heard a pained noise coming from the front door. He looked over and gasped softly, running over. It had been two hours since he had texted Al and he hadn’t gotten anything so, he had definitely known something was up.

“Babe? You alrigh’?” Anthony asked, helping Al sit down on the couch, pointing towards the first aid kit that way Al’s mother could help heal his wounds. Al looked at Anthony and nodded with a small smile.

“I’m alright, my dear. I only took care of a few things… Mainly the ones who keep calling out for you every time we go out and the ridiculous things I’ve heard about- Ah! Mother, ow, ow, ow,” he hissed when the open wound was treated with what he guessed was hydrogen peroxide. Anthony smiled and softly kissed his forehead. “Ya didn’ hafta do tha’.” He smiled and locked their hands together. Alastor shrugged as best as he could, hissing in pain and let his smile falter, tears starting to fall down his cheeks as he allowed his mother to patch his wounds. “Al, bae, what you be doin', baby? 'Cept gettin' shot in the arm. You lucky I can fix you up and it ain't nothin' too bad,” Maybel asked her son, softly kissing his forehead before numbing around the wound and then started stitching him up. The brunette hissed in pain and looked at the floor, wiping his tears with his good hand. He kept a tight squeeze on Anthony and it was clear he was protective of the smaller male. He didn’t want anything happening to him. Anthony softly kissed his cheek as Al explained what had happened when he’d gone out.

***

Around noon, Alastor had told Anthony to dress nice, not saying why, he just told him. Anthony smiled and kissed Al on his cheek before he headed upstairs to get changed. Once he was in their bedroom, he noticed that there was a note, alongside a dress that seemed to be a crimson red and sparkly, laced with pale pink jewels. Anthony squealed with a grin, reading the note first before anything else. Mon, Ange,While I was out earlier, I asked Rosie to… Craft something for you. I hope you enjoy this gift, my dear. Happy anniversary, mon amour.

-Alastor P.S. There’s a pair of heels that match. Look in the closet. Rosie said they should fit. I hope you like it, Anthony, darling. Anthony paled when he read the last line of the note. Fuck. That was today! He completely forgot! He wiped his eyes before he put on the dress and gasped softly. It fit perfectly. He smiled a little to himself in the mirror. He twirled and saw something sparkly in the corner… He broke into a grin as he slipped on the white and pale pink high heels, spinning around and smiling, taking a picture and sending it to his best friend and sister. After he sent it, he sat at his vanity and put on a light layer of makeup before he opened the bedroom door and walked downstairs. He didn’t see Alastor anywhere. However, he jumped a good three inches when he felt arms around his waist. Alastor laughed softly and kissed his shoulder gently, playfully biting on his collarbone gently.

“Jesus, Al!! Next time give a heads up-... Oh my god. You look smoking hot... Al? I-I'm sorry about today... I forgot about our anniversary and I didn't mean to.. I'm such a screw up.. I'm sorry, babe,” Anthony said and looked down at the ground, playing with the strings from the dress sleeves. Alastor hummed thoughtfully, gently stroking his back.

“It’s alright, my dear. You are not a “screw up”. You’re everything far from that. You’re an angel, my darling,” he told him and tilted his head up, capturing his lips in a kiss that was tender and lighthearted. Anthony smiled and held onto him tightly. He smiled as he pulled away, gratefully taking his hand and walked out with him, excited for what the man had in store for them for their special day.

***

As night fell, the two were curled up on the couch, near the fireplace. Al was sipping tea while reading and listening to jazz music. Anthony was laying with his head in his lap, playing with his engagement ring that was sitting on his finger. Snug as could be. He looked at Alastor and smiled, cupping his face with his hand. “Mon cher, I’m trying to read,” Al teased, but set his book aside and looked at Anthony, leaning down to nuzzle their noses together.

“I"I ain't never gonna take it off, Al. That's a guarantee,” Anthony promised, linking their hands together as they shared a kiss together… As if it were their last…

#angel dust #hazbin hotel #radiodust #alastor the radio demon

2 notes · View notes

mayrarcjas · 8 months

Text

Mayra x Zack

located in the Community Center kitchen.

Zack Astor

-he walks into the kitchen, looking to drop off some venison he and David just caught; as he walks in, he catches sight of Mayra- Hey, you know where they store the meat?

mayra.

-without looking up from her work station, mayra nodded toward the back of the kitchen- There's a big chest freezer in the back you could fit it in. -finally she looked up to see zack. from years of experience, mayra managed to keep her composure.-

Zack Astor

Alright. -makes his way into the back to deposit the meat into the freezer-

mayra.

-from her peripheral, mayra watched zack haul the meat toward the back to the freezer. quietly she moved the cleaver closer, just in case. she'd seen the damage he'd done to isaac - mayra wasn't sure if he was above putting hands on a woman as well.- Thanks for the catch. -her voice stayed firm with the same gratefulness she threw to david and jake whenever they'd bring back hunted game.-

Zack Astor

You're welcome. -he responds, closing the freezer before making his way out from the back; as he steps out, he directs his glance at her- By the way. Just remembering - did the council talk to you yet?

mayra.

-she knew it was coming; zack seemed like the kind of person to try to poke any wound or sensitive topic whenever he damn well pleased. like a mean girl from high school wanting to stir shit up for the hell of it.- They did. -mayra kept her words clipped with ike's words spinning in her head to not confront zack. but if he confronted her ... that might've been a loophole-

Zack Astor

Oh really. What did they say? Humor me, Mayra.

mayra.

-finally she looked up at him, her disgust for the man clearly written in her expression.- I don't think I will.

Zack Astor

Ah. -he grins slightly- Must suck for the real world to hit you, huh? When you've been nothing but spoiled by everyone.

mayra.

-she nods at him, a sarcastic smirk growing- Sure.

Zack Astor

-he considers her for a moment before chuckling- Good. Now, I got places to be, princess. Tell Ike hi for me, will you?

mayra.

-she grips onto the cleaver handle, feeling her rage shake within her core.- On that note. -she threw the cleaver toward him, purposefully missing him but it piercing the dry wall.- If you have an issue with me, come take it up with me. Ike didn't deserve what you did to him. -she pulled the drawer open, pulling out another knife in case zack thought to get near her-

Zack Astor

he turns around, stepping to the side instinctively as she flings her knife; he raises an eyebrow at her- Eh, debatable. And I doubt I would've gotten through that thick skull of yours myself. -he grins- You don't seem like the type who understand that she's being a fucking dumbass.

mayra.

That goes to know you don't know shit.

Zack Astor

Oh really? Well I'll be damned. Guess sometimes you get the wrong impression of people. -he puts his hands in his pockets as he regards her- Do you regret any of it?

mayra.

Of course I do. -she answered truthfully, keeping the knife handle tightly fisted- I know I put this place at risk all because I was selfish. And I'll spend the rest of my time here trying to make it up to everyone whether they know about it or not. But hurting others because of my selfishness doesn't make sense. -mayra sighed- I know the answer to this already, but I'll ask anyway: If you have an issue with me, take it up with me, okay? Don't go beating on others to prove a point or whatever reason you had for beating the shit out of Ike. Despite whatever opinion you have of me, I'm not a porcelain doll. I can take it.

Zack Astor

Are you sure? Because when I was talking to Ike, he couldn't even be sure whether you were sorry or not. -he stares at her- Oh princess, don't get me wrong. I'd beat the fucking shit out of you if I thought it'd get me anywhere. This wasn't an act of consideration or something. I truly didn't think anything would get through to you. Considering how you didn't even have the damn balls to own up to anything. And Ike just took it, too. Whatever's going on between you - sounds like it fucking sucks.

mayra.

We didn't exactly have a lot of time to talk about it. -mayra scoffed, thankful she listened to her instincts in grabbing another knife- For the record, Ike told me to keep quiet. And maybe I was stupid to listen to him, but I did. But now the people who need to know, know. Now, can we move on from this? Or this something that you'll hold over my head? I promise I don't need a chaperone ... unless you're volunteering.

Zack Astor

That was pretty fucking stupid. -he scoffs- Of course he's gonna tell you to keep quiet. And that just so happens to be the one time you listen to him, isn't it? When not listening would have negative consequences for you. -he grins, tilting his head- He's babying you. They all are. I'm the one who's not.

mayra.

Fine. I'm spoiled - that's okay for you to think that. Just be the one to not baby me, to me, and leave others out of it.

Zack Astor

I'll do what I damn want. -he shrugs- If you regret it, work for it.

mayra.

Yeah, we both know that. -mayra rolled her eyes, letting out a soft breath. she said her peace and quickly grew tired of the conversation.- I'm going to continue preparing the town's soup. If you want to take first shift of chaperoning, you're welcome to help me. If not, you know where the door is. -she used the knife to point towards it.- Good talk.

Zack Astor

Watch your damn mouth. -he makes his way over to the cupboard to take out some peanut butter- Last time I checked, this wasn't your kitchen. So I'll take my time and make myself some food. Good talk.

mayra.

-mayra bit down the urge to say 'make me', knowing it would probably prompt something she promised to not get into. watching him grab the peanut better, she used the knife to point to the opposite counter.- There's freshly made bread over there if you want something with that. -there was no way mayra was going to have her back to zack and instead moved to the other side of her workstation, leaving the long table to separate them. she carefully placed the knife next to her, keeping it at an easy reach.-

Zack Astor

-he notices her switch in position and chuckles to himself before he casts a glance at the bread- Who made that?

mayra.

Ember and I had hands in it. Making bread is a bit of a process. -mayra ping ponged her gaze between zack and the potatoes she began to cut-

Zack Astor

-he looks at the bread before shaking his head- Nah. I don't trust your ass enough to not do something dumb and try to poison me. -he puts the peanut butter back and instead pulls out a can of canned goulash- You're into that witch crap, seems on brand for you.

mayra.

-she smiles at his comment, taking slight pride, and snickers- Please. -she stopped her movements, giving him a pointed looked- If I wanted to poison you, you’d be poisoned already. Something so obvious like me pointing out bread is a little on the nose. -she resumes her potato cutting-

Zack Astor

-he huffs, slightly amused- Yeah right. Look, when Nicki tells me that I'd be dead if she wanted, I'm gonna take that seriously. When you do it? Not so much. You probably haven't even killed a walker in your lifetime.

mayra.

You can believe whatever picture you’ve painted of me. I’m not going to stop you.

Zack Astor

I will, thank you. I usually found I'm a damn good judge of character. -he opens up the can, takes a spoon and begins eating his meal, deliberately taking his time-

mayra.

Mmm -she said nothing else but made a ‘sure, jan’ face- So, I take it you were military? Marines, maybe?

Zack Astor

I was. -despite his delibaretly slow pace, he's already halfway through the can; He looks up and narrows his eyes- Why do you wanna know?

mayra.

-she kept her gaze on the task at hand and shrugged- Genuinely curious. I heard you and Ermano go back. Is that true?

Zack Astor

We served together. -he seems a little bit weary of her questions- Until he joined the Black Ops at least.

mayra.

-her brows rose, not knowing that tid-bit of information about ermano- Black Ops? That's intense. -mayra placed her knife down, gathering the cut pieces of potato and placed them in the large metal bowl next to her- You didn't want to go with him or what that too much for you?

Zack Astor

-his eyes narrow and he puts the can down; he pushes himself away from the counter taking a few steps towards Mayra- What did I say about watching your mouth?

mayra.

-quickly the woman picked up the knife, holding it in front of herself- And people say I'm touchy. It was a simple question, there's no need to be defensive when I meant no malice. -mayra watched him carefully, narrowing her eyes at him- Why is that? Why are you so quick to be defensive? Again, a simple question meant with no ill intent behind it.

Zack Astor

-he grins, slightly amused- You're the who got the knife, princess. -he tilts his head slightly, returning her gaze, unwavering- You ain't my people, princess. Don't talk to me like you are. Now, can I get some damn salt for my food from the cupboard behind you, or are you gonna stab me for that?

mayra.

The knife is insurance. I saw Ike. You, yourself, said you had no problem beating my ass. If that happens, I'd like to at least go down swinging. -she lowered the knife and turned to get the salt from the cupboard. she placed it on the table between them- And I'm not talking to you like you're 'my people', I'm talking to you like you're a person.

Zack Astor

Is that how you talk to Ike too? -he chuckles- Damn, you must be the best fuck in the world or something, because I have no idea why else he's putting up with you.

mayra.

Not at all. -she shook her head, pinching her tongue between her teeth- Guess we'll never figure it out, huh. -mayra leans back against the counter behind her, arms folding across her chest and, yes, still holding the knife.-

Zack Astor

-he shrugs- Guess we won't. -he grabs the salt and returns to his food- If you wanna find out more about Ermano, go talk to him. Not me.

mayra.

I wasn't asking about Ermano, I was asking about you. -she stays where she was- Question was, why didn't you transfer with him to Black Ops? And then I asked if they were too much for you which prompted you to threaten me. -mayra shrugs- If you didn't want to answer, you could've just said so. -pushing off from the counter, mayra moved to the bowl, putting the remainder of the cut potatoes in it-

Zack Astor

No reason for you to know anything more, princess. And even less reason for me to tell you any more. -he goes back to eating, seemingly unbothered-

mayra.

So is this really you chaperoning me?

Zack Astor

Nope. Just eating my food. -he finishes it and leaves the empty can on the counter, alongside his dirty silverware as he makes for the exit- Good talk, princess. Seems like you haven't changed a bit. I was really hoping you might.

mayra.-she scoffed, following behind Zack, keeping a distance- You're lying to yourself if you think you're a good judge of character. But you do you, think whatever you wanna think. Have the day you deserve. -she flashed one more smile before slamming the door in his face, quickly locking it- Fucking dickhead.

@zackastor

#mayra ;; discord #discord threads ;; zack

2 notes · View notes

aarons-main-blog · 3 years

Text

I changed my mind, and decided to que this up immediately after posting the first one. I won't be home when you see this because I'm attending a funeral, but tell me what you think of it and I will see you when I get home!

Note: this was made on Google docs mobile, so when I get a chance I will actually use tab instead of just paragraphs.

"Wars, you said you knew the area!"

"I thought I did, but this is sure as hell not the same way I remember! Those ruins we passed back there? Those are completely new to me! This forest? I don't even recognize half of these plants! We should have reached a town hours ago!"

"Hey, stop fighting, you two, or-"

The group Link had been following for the last few hours came to a halt as the one with pink-tipped hair argued with the one with a blue scarf. He couldn't tell if they were a threat yet, they just seemed like lost travelers. Then again, that was the main way the Yiga clan tried to trick him.

Pinky and Wars kept arguing, until finally the smallest one in rainbow colors seemed to snap. "How about we admit it. We are lost, and just happened to find something that reminded Wars of home. It was NOONE's fault, because we ignored the obvious signs something was wrong. Now, we are lost in the middle of a forest, and unless you have an idea of what we should do, then SHUT UP!"

The group all seemed shocked by his outburst, Link and the rainbow included, and once they all seemed to get over it, the kid apologized. "Sorry, I didn't mean to yell."

The oldest one, probably the leader, said, "No, it's ok. Today has been a long day, and everyone seems on edge. Perhaps we should set up camp early, does that sound good to everyone?"

The group nodded collectively, and started to set up in the clearing that could barely fit all of them. The one in a green tunic and no pants volunteered for the night's first watch, and while it wouldn't be for a while, they seemed relaxed a bit more by the fact someone was willing to do it.

Link, who had been hiding a good distance away from them, stood up. He got a stealth potion that would last him a few hours at least ready, then decided he would investigate that night.

As the sun set, an awful smell enveloped the forest. "Legend, what did you do?!"

"I don't know! It was fine a minute ago!"

"It's smoking! How did you burn SOUP of all things?!"

"I didn't burn it, it just got too hot!"

"Because you ****ed up, Legend! That's literally how things burn up!"

"Wind, watch your mouth."

Link had just come back from following the path the group of strangers had taken, looking to see if they dropped anything interesting, when he heard the commotion. It smelled like burning hair or that one shrine he had found with the awful cook. Maybe they were cousins?

As Link got closer to get a better look, he saw four people standing around a large cooking pot with a brown/green liquid with chunks in it. Pathetic. Are all of them as bad cooks as that one? Link was amazed they had survived however long they had been traveling.

Pinkey poked the 'soup' with a wooden ladle. "It's still edible, look, the vegetables seem cooked enough."

"With all due respect, I don't know if I would want to eat that," the kid in a blue shirt said with a grimace. "I don't know if anyone else would either."

The old one took the ladle and used it to try a small sip of what they were calling a soup, and his face scrunched up immediately.

"Uh, Time?" The blue kid tapped the man's shoulder.

The man swallowed the drink, coughed, then said, "It is… certainly better than last time."

A few of the others gave their opinions, from encouraging to neutral, before deciding it was better than nothing.

None of them looked that happy about it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After what theoretically could have been called dinner, the one in the green tunic, which Link had identified as being named "Hyrule," started circling around the camp, gradually making them larger and larger before returning close and starting again. Near the middle of the third round, Link drank his stealth potion and snuck into the campsite.

There was a young adult in tan with a tall belt, there was a boy in blue(wind), there was a kid in rainbow, there was a young adult with a wolf pelt on his shoulders, still on in his sleep for some reason, there was one in red with pink hair tips(legend), and then there was the leader. Link got a good look at him. He had a fancy set of armour, a big sword, a bad eye, but the strangest thing was he had familiar markings covering his face. They were almost the same…

As the ones Link saw in nearly every mirror, looking right back at himself.

"Time?"

Link turned towards the voice to see the one called Hyrule looking at him. He had to play this right. "Yes?"

"Oh, thank the goddess. What are you up to?"

"I couldn't sleep, so I was going to see if you wanted off early." This was dangerous. If he realized the real Time was sleeping soundly next to him, he would wake up all the others, and then he'd have eight grumpy travelers armed to the teeth on his trail in seconds.

"You sure that's ok with you?"

"Yes, get some rest."

"Thanks, Time," the boy said with a smile. "I will."

Link somewhat directed Hyrule towards the opposite side of where Time was. He was extremely lucky the fire was ruining the boy's night vision.

"Time?"

Link stopped and turned his head a bit. "Yeah?"

There was a pause. "Thank you for being here for us."

Link smiled. "You don't have to mention it," mimicking the somewhat fancy way he had heard Time use words. "Goodnight."

Hyrule mumbled it back, seemingly exhausted from the travel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Hyrule woke up feeling well rested. The birds were singing a song only they knew, the trees provided shade from the early morning sun, the wind rustled leaves and bushes softly, and a nice smell emanated from the cooking pot.

Wait, did someone cook something edible? Hyrule shot up, feeling excited to see what had made someone unlock their inner cook.

"Hey, mornin, Hyrule!"

"Goodmorning, Wind! What's cooking?"

Wind was grinning like an idiot. "No idea, but none of us made it, that's for sure! Four woke up and saw it cooking, then woke up the rest of us, except for you and sky. Time says you didn't wake him up for his shift, so we thought you could use some re-"

Hyrule was confused. "Wait, what? Run that by me one more time."

Wind's grin fell just a little bit, before coming back up. "Four woke up first, saw something was cooking, and woke everyone but you and sky because we thought you must have kept watch the whole night. Is that not what happened?"

"Yeah, Time said he couldn't sleep last night, so he took over the watch early for me."

Time, who had been listening in, said "I think I would know my sleep schedule better than you would. You didn't wake me up last night, and I didn't wake myself up, that's for certain."

"Then who-"

Four hit the pot a few times. "Breakfast is ready, guys!"

The questions could wait. Nobody had had a good meal for at least a week or two, so they were excited to try the mysterious meal.

It. Was. Delicious!

After discussion, it was determined to be a mushroom, meat and rice based meal. The meat used was probably venison, and a high quality type at that. It was served with some mushrooms nobody recognized but everybody loved, and a strange rice they couldn't find an exact comparison of.

Idle conversation was of generally positive things and how beautiful the world was. All of their problems seemed far away, and the day promised to be a great one. As the last of the food was eaten up, and the bowl was starting to be wiped as clean as it would get, Twilight brought up the question on everyone's mind.

"I wonder who made this for us."

"Maybe it was a ghost!" Wind exclaimed.

"Maybe it was a passing traveler?" Four said at the same time.

Legend laughed. "It was not a ghost, you idiot!"

"You don't know that," Wind huffed. "I met a ghost once, she was nice!"

"You did NOT meet a ghost!"

"Yeah I did!"

"Cut it out you two," Time said with his signature 'stop' look. "Whoever did it, they must have been a nice person. Don't argue about things this good, ok?"

"Ok!" Wind said. Legend just scoffed.

Nobody noticed the person sitting on top of a tree, fiddling a strange ocarina.

I hope this was ok! I will be the first to admit my writing style isn't the best, but I think this is one of my better works at the moment. Comments and criticism is appreciated, and I may edit this if I find stupid things I want to change/fix. I should be home Friday, probably Thursday afternoon. Anyway, see you next time!

59 notes · View notes

frostsinth · 4 years

Text

The Secret We Keep - Pt. 2

Part 1 - MasterList

Good morning, my dudes. Have a new part of the new orc story to celebrate me hitting 300 followers. As always, my eternal love for your support. I am grateful to have such wonderful feedback and overwhelming support for my work.

Thank you, and keep being you! Please comment and reblog with your thoughts. I read every single one. Multiple times. It is my sustenance. Feel free to DM or shoot me an ask if there’s something you’d like to see or any questions you have.

I was humming to myself as usual while I swept out the front shop when a huge shadow fell over me. I started, spinning with a tiny gasp. My hand even went to clutch at my breast in surprise. But as soon as I recognized the disheveled looking behemoth before me, my face split into a smile instead.

“Hans!” I exclaimed excitedly.

I beamed up at him as he bowed his shoulders to duck into the little shop through the door I had left propped open. His slate eyes roamed around, as if looking for something. Not much had changed in the week since I had last seen him. The cow haunches had been replaced by goat’s legs, the mackerel by trout. I had some fresh wild pheasant on the fire in the corner, and its juicy aroma filled the air. I leaned the broom against the wall and smacked the dirt off my hands.

“Welcome back! I was hoping I’d see you again!” I told him eagerly. “Hungry?”

He turned his big eyes on me, frowning. When he made no move to come deeper into the shop, I rolled my eyes in amusement. Perhaps he still wasn’t used to such friendly greetings, I decided as I went over and closed the shop door. Then I took up his big hand in both of mine and gave a gentle tug. His eyes dropped down to my hands, which looked like delicate glass compared to his meaty sausages. Of course, my tug had probably hardly even registered to him. If I was being honest, the effort of lifting his hand with both of mine was almost difficult.

But he allowed me to coax him out the back. I dropped his hand as soon as he started moving and turned to lead the way. A pair of deer were smoking today, and a wild turkey. There was a small pig’s head on the chopping block, its meat skewered and its ears put out to leather on the rack. I had left the door to my room open to let in some of the fresh summer air, and nodded to it.

“Go ahead in. I’m sure you’re sick of venison if you’ve been traveling. How about turkey?” I suggested. “The pig still has a few hours. I’ve got some salmon if you’d prefer.”

He didn’t go immediately to the house nor answer me. I saw his eyes considering the broken gate and the still empty stables. They drifted up to the makeshift skylight, then the crooked door and bent and beaten skewers. A frown tugged his lips in a deep, downward pitch. I hummed a few more lines of my previous song patiently as he looked about, dipping a smaller bucket in the barrel of water by the gate to bring in with us.

“You’ll never guess what happened,” I told him as I hoisted the bucket over my shoulder, “Not long after you left. Erlif and his men were found hogtied and bloody in the old prison. Nobody knows how they got there!” I laughed. “I heard they were shipped off to Osfar. They have a bounty on their head there.”

I waited by the door of the house, but he didn’t seem inclined to follow yet. I saw his eyes considering the meat on the skewers, and I thought I saw his tongue dart out to lick his lips. I felt a little ashamed of the wild meat on the coals. A good butcher would have only cooked and sold domestic grown meat. Raised themselves, if possible. While I was reduced to taking anything I could bargain for.

“You don’t say.” He grumbled in his deep, quiet voice.

“Good riddance, in my opinion.” I replied distractedly, looking a little forlornly at the meat on the skewers. “Sorry about the slim pickings today. Can’t afford to pay the farmers for their stock if I don’t have enough people buying the meat. And if I don’t have enough meat to sell, I won’t be able to buy the stock.” I shrugged. “Endless little circle. Luckily the hunters will sell their game cheap,” I tried to sound cheery at that, but wasn’t sure I managed, “Though I can’t ask for as much as I could for beef and pork.”

Hans scowled at me, and he drummed his big fingers on his ax head. His slate eyes looked me up and down again, and I raised an eyebrow curiously. I had a feeling I knew what he was thinking. I sighed quietly, brushing one hand through my hair. I ducked into the house, placing the bucket of water by the door and going over to the barrel nearest the stove. After digging around inside for a moment, I brought my findings back outside.

The orc seemed surprised to see the little coin purse held out to him in my tiny hand. His slate blue eyes shot back up to me, and a fresh scowl settled on his face.

“It’s all there.” I assured him, shifting my weight to my other foot.

He rubbed one rough hand at his scruffy beard. “It was payment for your services.”

I scoffed, leaning back and smiling. “What service? A little kindness to a stranger who helped me out?” I shook my head. “I manage well enough to do that.”

A growl formed in this throat, rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest. He slowly reached out and wrapped his huge hand around the pouch. My skin tingled where his fingertips brushed against mine. His brow was knotted, and his lips still set into a deep frown. I considered that for a moment, then smiled.

“It’s nice of you to worry, but I assure you. I’m fine.” I said, then rested my hands back on my hips. “So, are you hungry or not?”

The orc grumbled unintelligibly. The way he looked around my yard, I had a feeling he didn’t quite believe me when I said I was fine. He chewed at his lip thoughtfully, staring at me. I met his gaze, unabashed, and smiled. He grunted, then shook his big head. He tucked the pouch back into his belt slowly.

“Well, I would offer you a drink, but all I have left is water.”

I turned to go into the house, gesturing for him to follow me. Perhaps I could offer him some bread, though I only had a little left. But I paused in the doorway when I realized he wasn’t following. Instead, he turned, making his way over to the gate on the back wall. I followed him after a moment.

“What are you doing?” I asked curiously.

Before I could say more, he wrapped one huge hand around the top and bottom of the old broken gate. With one tug, the large gate shattered, ripping off its hinges. I was so surprised my hands went to my mouth. The big orc brought the pieces over to the wall, leaning it against it. Then he considered the scrap wood there before selecting a piece and a few nails.

I bustled over quickly as soon as I realized his intent, holding up my hands.

“You don’t have to do that!” I protested.

He gave a loud, almost startling snort. “I’m not asking.” He growled.

He considered the tiny hammer by the pile, then kicked it aside with a grumble and pulled out his ax, spinning it deftly in his hand. I continued to protest, even going so far as to place my hand on his huge bicep. He froze under my touch, and my words died in my mouth. I looked up at him, meeting his stormy blue eyes. We stayed like that, perhaps for a moment too long. Then I yanked my hand back, taking a little shy step away. I felt a little heat in my cheeks, though I wasn’t sure why. I swallowed a few times, smiling stupidly, flustered.

“W-well, then you’ll have to let me feed you. If you insist on fixing my gate.”

His responding grunt sounded affirmative. Satisfied he wasn’t going to fuss about it, I went back to the house. I adjusted the fresh flowers in the pitcher, trying to sort my thoughts and looking around as I thought about what I could offer him. Then I went over to where I had some dough rising, readying it to put in the oven. I stoked the coals until the little clay stove was back to baking temperature and slid the dough in. Smacking my hands together to get off the excess flour, I pulled out a pair of hollow horns and dipped them into the cool water. I took a sip myself, and brought the other outside to the big orc, placing it on a stump near him. It was a very hot day, after all.

Hans had already neatly trimmed and hammered two slats into place. Even as he worked I felt his eyes on me while I moved about the yard. I went over to the pits, seasoning the meat with some gravy and vinegar as well as dried herbs. Then I took up a hanging cloth and wiped down a few dishes by the water barrel, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. He was still watching. I couldn’t help a small, amused smile on my lips as I stacked the wooden plates before taking them inside to place on the small shelf by the larder.

It was only late afternoon; starting anything now would have it dried out and chewy by the time he finished the gate. I would just have to preoccupy myself with something else in the meantime. But I felt guilty letting him work alone in the heat.

So I gathered up my basket of herbs and carried it out on my head to the little yard. I dragged another stump over to the doorway of the shop and set the basket by my feet as I sat down. I would be able to hear if any last minute customers stopped by that way. I took up a few and began braiding them together. My small hands worked nimbly at the familiar task. It was mostly mindless, and allowed me to watch the big orc work.

“Do you have business in the area again?” I asked him conversationally.

He gave another positive sounding grunt, and I smiled, looking down at the forming garland of wild garlic in my lap. What a mystery he was! But I decided, looking at how efficiently he was repairing the gate with just his ax and a pile of scrap wood, my original assessment had been right. He was a laborer of some kind. I berated myself quietly for forgetting about an orc’s sense of pride. Of course he would insist on some sort of payment for the food I had given him last time. Orcs rarely took handouts. I snuck a look at him under my lashes, hiding another smile. Same as me.

“I wish I had more to offer you than water,” I mused aloud, interrupting the soft song I had been humming absentmindedly to myself. “And would you rather the pig or some goat for dinner?”

Hans straightened, reaching up one hand to wipe the back of it over his sweaty forehead. He snatched up the horn of water, guzzling it down. I watched his gullet move as he swallowed, and found my chest tingling at the sight. I blinked a few times to clear my head as he replaced the horn and reached for his belt again.

“Here.” He grunted, holding out a gold coin. I started to protest, but his growl silenced me. “Get a bottle of wine… or whatever you womenfolk like.”

At first, I was torn. My own pride would not allow me to take the offered coin; but my desire to be a good hostess reasoned that a bottle of gin would go quite well with the goat. I sighed, relenting to my latter argument. I replaced the half finished garland in the basket and held out my hands. He delicately placed the coin in my palm. Again, our skin brushed, and I felt my heart skip a beat. Swallowing, I stood, skittering over to the house. I hooked the bucket of water over my arm and brought it out, resting it in the shade before refilling his drinking horn.

“I won’t be long.” I promised, untying the straps of my apron hesitantly.

I glanced at him, then at the gate. I was unlikely to have any customers come knocking, but it still felt a little strange leaving him there in the yard all alone. Still, I knew the distillers shop just around the corner wouldn’t be busy. I could be there and back pretty quickly. I draped the apron over the stump, lingering.

He gave another hearty grunt, picking his ax back up. “Go. I’ll keep working.”

A little over half an hour later, I was back, the biggest bottle of mulberry gin they had on hand under my arm. It’d still cost less than the whole gold piece, and I carefully patted the silver coins in my pocket lightly. In my other hand was a fresh bundle of the wildflowers I had seen growing at the corner of the road that led out of town. I hadn’t been able to resist stopping to pick them. I brought them up to my nose to smell as I went to the back wall of the shop.

I nearly dropped both as I came round the corner. The sun was beginning to set, and dusty orange rays splashed across the yard. The air almost hummed with the heat of the day slowly starting to rise up from the ground as the air cooled. But it was the sight of Hans that had me frozen in place like a startled doe.

He was lifting a final slat of wood into place, and the sweat that trickled over his skin caught the orange sunlight making his dark green skin seem to glow. And there was quite a lot of skin to look at. The big orc had discarded his armor and his tunic and was now stripped bare down to his hips. Each movement had his muscles coiling and rippling with raw power. I swore he was less a man and instead simply one giant corded muscle as he reached for his ax and rotated it in one meaty hand to use the back of its head to hammer the final nails in place. Unlike those on his arms and shoulders, his muscles on his chest and abdomen were not defined. His was not the body made for show; they were the muscles made for work. Thick and tough, they did not jiggle or sag when he relaxed them, but they were more uniformed in shape and not distinct as individual muscles. Rather an entire torso designed to get the job done. And certainly, he was getting the job done; the gate was almost finished. Like watching a snake move through the grass, I found myself transfixed, unable to move.

It took him taking a step back and placing his hands on his hips as he admired his handiwork for me to come back to my senses. Unfortunately, I didn’t have much time to recover, for the big orc turned, as if sensing my eyes on him. I quickly fumbled a sheepish grin, blinking rapidly and letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“I hope you like mulberry gin,” I told him breathlessly, finding my feet well enough to close the remaining gap between us, “I thought it would pair very well with the goat-”

A soft ‘eep!’ escaped my lips as my foot caught on an errant board. I tumbled forward, arms going wide. My hands scrambled for the bottle, dropping the flowers in favor of saving the glass. I braced myself for impact, clutching the bottle to me and squeezing my eyes shut.

It came as a surprise when I didn’t suddenly feel the wind knocked from my lungs. Or the sting of the ground against my shoulder. In fact, I actually almost felt weightless, and a soft tingle of air hit the back of my neck as my hair lifted from it. A deeply rich smell filled my nose, and there was something firm but gentle at my back.

I cracked open an eye, and found it met by dark stormy blues. Slowly, I opened the other, feeling my breath hitch and my heart race beneath my skin.

I was delicately cradled in Hans’ arms, with one of his hands at my back and the other beneath my legs. He had dropped to one knee in his lunge to catch me, and bent over my body with his heavy brow knotted up. As he looked down at me, his hot breath splashed against my face, and I drew in another whiff of his thick scent. He seemed equally surprised to find me in his arms, but neither of us moved to change positions. I found myself simply staring, lost in his big eyes.

Finally, he gave a soft grunt, and slowly, carefully, lowered my feet back to the ground. I found myself quivering, and took a deep, steadying breath. The big orc dropped his hand almost reluctantly from my back, straightening up. I smiled at him again, dropping my eyes.

“Sorry.” I mumbled bashfully, thumbing the bottle between my hands.

He shrugged those huge shoulders, reaching up one hand and scratching at the back of his neck. I had to work hard not to stare at his broad chest and solid looking abdomen as he did.

“I shouldn’t have left shit lying around.” He grumbled, reaching down to pick up the offending piece of wood. He chucked the huge plank off to the side with about as little effort as swatting at a fly. “Just gotta mount the gate.” He finished, glancing over at the opening I had just walked through in the clay wall of the yard.

“O-oh! Right, yes.” I stammered, feeling heat rising to my cheeks again. I pushed my hair back from my face, looking about. “I’ll finish searing the meat while you do.” I frowned a little sadly, noticing the scattered flowers littering the yard. “You can wash up at the trough after if you’d like. The water is fresh.”

He followed my gaze around the ground, nodding. When he turned back to the gate, I bustled quickly into the shop to grab the goat. Focus, focus! I scolded myself, expertly taking the meat down and adjusting the coals to a hotter blaze. I shifted the pheasant to the side, letting it keep warm without continuing to cook. I’d have to slice it later and leave it to salt overnight. I reached under the table and grabbed my herbs and molasses, quickly spreading some over the outside of the leg. It sizzled as the coals burned hotter under it, and I used my handheld bellows to breathe a little more air onto them until they glowed orange. Kind of how Hans had in the sunlight. I shook my head, scolding myself again.

If only my father could see me now! Losing my head over a man. And an orc at that! He would have been in stitches on the floor. Would have teased me endlessly. At first, the thought of my late father warmed my smile. But then his memory and loss sobered me, and I slowly turned and braised the leg in quiet thought. Things had gotten a lot harder since his passing; this little run down town had a bad reputation, and a young, unmarried woman living alone was as dangerous as too much bellow work on hot coals. I sighed, turning the leg again and considering the crust that had formed. I would figure it out though. I always did.

A short while later, the leg was done. I grabbed my carving knife and put the leg on a wood slab, turning and ducking back out to the evening air with the gin under my arm again. It was refreshingly cool after the hot day, though I was certain it had probably only dropped just a few degrees. Still, without the sun beating down overhead or the fire on my face, it felt marvelous.

As I crossed the yard, I snuck a look at Hans out of the corner of my eye. He was testing the gate, swinging it slowly open and closed. He was still shirtless, and I greedily soaked up the sight of him. I shook my head again, clearing my throat and ducking through the open door of my house. No time for that now!

I quickly set the table, clearing the clutter and trying to rearrange the wilting flowers. It was a shame the new bouquet hadn’t made it; these could really use refreshing. But they would have to do. The bread in the oven had just finished, and I took it out and drew in a deep breath of its warm scent as I brought it over to the table. Gin, drinking horns, leg roast, plates, carving knife. I had just about everything set. I turned back to my little larder, thinking to myself a few snap peas would be a nice side for the roast. I heard splashing outside, and knew my time was going to be limited.

I hesitated by the bowl of water on the barrel by the stove. I reached up and twirled a strand of hair between two fingers thoughtfully, looking down at my worn old dress. It was covered in blood and gravy stains, and I smoothed my hands over it restlessly. Looking about, I went over to the pile of things on my bed and pulled out a fresh apron. Less dirty, at least, I thought to myself. Then I rinsed my hands and splashed water at my face, smoothing over my messy locks. I chided myself quietly, not entirely sure why it mattered what I looked like, but couldn’t help but untie the thong in my hair and brush my fingers down its length a few times before retying it.

The shadows had begun to lengthen with the departure of the sun. So I lit candles about the room and went back over to the larder with a small basket. I heard his footsteps, followed by the sound of his shoulders scraping against the door frame.

“Go ahead and have a seat,” I told him, reaching in and scooping a few handfuls of the snap peas into the basket, “I’m not sure if orcs like vegetables too, but I thought-”

My words caught in my throat as I turned back to face him. He was wearing his tunic again, but not his armor, and his hair was slicked back. I could still see the water droplets in his beard. It did nothing to impede how very handsome he suddenly looked. He fiddled with something in his hands, not quite looking up at me. When I managed to tear my eyes away from his now clean face, I noticed the wild flowers clutched in his huge, meaty fists. They looked a little rough, with a few bent stalks, missing petals, and pulverized leaves. But the sight of them had a smile blossoming on my own face.

I walked over, placing the snap peas on the table. Hans awkwardly held out the flowers, peeking at me through dark lashes. My smile grew as I reached out to take them. I couldn’t resist letting my fingers linger on his as I gently slid them from his grip. The touch had him looking up, meeting my eyes with his. I felt my cheeks turn a little pink, and brought the flowers to my nose to give a light sniff.

“Thank you, Hans,” I breathed, running my hand over the petals gently, “That was very kind of you.”

He gave a rumbling grunt that seemed to come from from somewhere deep in his chest. But his brow looked a little less scrunched than usual, and I could have sworn his lips weren’t quite so scowly. I decided he was pleased with himself, and hid my smile as I emptied the old flowers from the pitcher and replaced them with his. As I did, he slowly settled himself back on the bench, looking over the food.

I settled opposite him, bringing the carving knife over to me. I made quick work of the leg, separating it from the bone and cutting it into manageable pieces with a few well placed strokes of the blade. Hans watched quietly, and I thought I saw his cheek twitch and his brow soften even more. Was he impressed? I gave him a shy smile.

“You won’t make it far as a butcher if you don’t know how to handle a knife.” I told him, then speared a piece of the leg roast on the tip and held it out to him. “Here, tell me what you think.”

He eagerly took the offered piece between his thumb and index, bringing it to his mouth. I heard him suck on it, chewing it slowly. Savoring the flavor. He gave a resounding sound of enjoyment, his tongue darting out to keep escaping juices in his mouth. I smiled, picking a piece for myself and nibbling at it.

“Hmm. More bay leaf next time, I think,” I mused, rolling the flavor around in my mouth critically.

Hans was already reaching for another piece. I uncorked the gin and poured some into the horns. Never a short supply of those around here. I snapped a pea between my teeth, chewing quietly as I swirled the gin beneath my nose. The orc took a deep draught, and gave a happy ‘ahhh’ as he drew the cup back.

I smiled at him. “You act like you’ve never had a good meal!” I teased, sipping at my own gin. The tart liquor paired well with the sweet molasses I had braised the goat with.

He grunted again. “Not often.” He rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand. “Not like this.”

I refilled his cup and took up the bread, breaking it in two. I made sure he got the larger piece. I took up another piece of the meat and offered him the snap peas curiously.

“Well, whenever you’re in the area, stop by.” I told him shyly, and he took a few of the peas in hand, sniffing them thoughtfully. “I’ll make sure you get one.”

Hans seemed to enjoy the crunch of the peas, and took another small handful. I placed the basket back on the table and used my bread to sop up the juices on the cutting board. I sipped at my gin, then refilled the horns again. I could already feel its warmth seeping into my cheeks and the tips of my ears.

“You are alone?” Gurgled the orc conversationally, using my example to sponge the sauce and juices with his bread before bringing it to his mouth.

I nodded. “It used to be my father’s shop. He was an excellent butcher and cook. Taught me everything I know. But he passed away almost a year ago…” I dropped off, burying the sudden pang of loss with another sip of gin.

“Sorry.” Growled the orc, and though his voice was rough, I decided he sounded sincere.

I gave him a smile. “It’s alright. He died peacefully in his sleep. Can’t ask for much more than that.”

He grunted. I remembered suddenly exactly what orcs thought about a so called ’peaceful’ death. I remembered my father once telling me that they considered any death other than that on a battlefield almost shameful. I wondered if he found my statement insulting, and quickly tried to recover.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I apologized, feeling flustered, “I hope you don’t mind me saying as much.”

Hans snorted, shaking his big head. “I don’t care.”

I took up a handful of snap peas, popping them one at a time into my mouth. “The only things I know about the world are from what others have told me. I’ve never been outside this village,” I confided in him, “I’m not sure what I would do out in the great big beyond!” I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head.

He looked about my little room, and I felt a blush returning to my cheeks. I could almost hear the question he posed with his gesture. I thought about it for a little, following his eyes around my childhood home. Then I shrugged.

“I wouldn’t mind moving, perhaps someplace quieter, but I like my work.” I said. “No matter where I go, I think I would find myself just setting up shop, same as here. Though I suppose I could see myself on a farm, out in the countryside.”

“No cities?”

I laughed again, finishing off my cup and pouring myself another. “Oh Gods no! I can’t stand crowds of people. And the noise!” I shook my head, looking around, “I enjoy the little things; what I’ve earned with my own two hands.”

He gave another sound, deep in the back of his throat. I thought it sounded approving. I smiled at him, then glanced down at my cup bashfully.

“Do you often have business in the area?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

He raised one big, bushy brow at me. “...Sometimes.”

I shuffled my feet under the table. The plates before us were empty, and the shadows of the setting sun had long since disappeared. I considered the bottle of gin between us. It was hardly an excuse to keep him here, I thought, disappointedly, but it was the only thing I had. My head spun with the realization that I wasn’t ready for the orc to leave just yet. I stared numbly down at my cup, trying to find some courage.

“Come.” He growled suddenly, breaking the silence and standing.

I looked up at him, surprised, but followed suit without questioning. He certainly wasn’t much of the conversationalist, but it seemed the big orc never did anything without forethought. Whatever he had in mind, I decided I was curious enough to wait to find out. He took up the gin bottle and ducked his head to pass through the door. I was barely a step behind, holding my own horn nervously between my hands.

Out into the night air, I noticed the finished gate and smiled. I walked over, resting my hand against it. I couldn’t remember the last time the gate hadn’t looked like it would fall apart with a stiff breeze. It was obvious the gate had been repaired; the different types of wood interlaced with each other without much sense or pattern. But it was very sturdy. I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone unwanted coming through there. I traced my fingers over the wood, still smiling to myself.

I heard a soft grunt, and turned towards the source. The big orc had shuffled the stumps together against the side of the house, and was sitting on one. He didn’t look at me, but pulled out the cork of the gin with his teeth and refilled his horn. I slowly wandered over, wringing my hands. He leaned back against the house with a sigh, stretching his long legs out and letting his knees naturally fall apart. I watched quietly, edging a little closer, sipping at my drink.

He took a deep swallow, leaning his head back. I used the opportunity of his distraction to slip even closer. Coming up to his side. I glanced at the stumps, then around the yard. Beyond my tiny little haven, the soft sounds of the town closing up for the night echoed. Doors closing, windows shuttering, and calls of farewell. Trudging boots and soft laughter. Slowly, I lowered myself to sit on the stump next to him.

Hans refilled his cup again, then turned, leaning over me. I stiffened a little, but he merely poured some more gin into my horn. I felt his shoulder brush mine as he did, and my ears felt hot. All too soon he was leaning back again, recorking the bottle and placing it on the ground between us.

“Thanks.” I murmured, looking down into the cup.

He gave a rasping huff, reaching up and running his thumb along his bottom lip. I swirled my drink for a moment, then brought it back to my mouth. I liked the warm feeling wrapping about my core. And though I wouldn’t admit it, not all of that warmth was because of the liquor.

I wasn’t sure what else to talk about. Wasn’t sure if talking was what the big orc had in mind when he had brought us outside. I chanced a glance at him out of the corner of my eye, and saw his head back. Dark eyes looking up at the stars.

I followed his lead, leaning back against the house and tilting my chin up. I sighed deeply, forcing myself to relax. Took another sip to aid the process and tucked my ankles comfortably against the barrel. The position had my knees falling dangerously close to his thigh, but I tried to ignore that fact. Wondered if he noticed how closely we were sitting together. Or if he even cared.

“...You know, I had a man come to my shop the other day and tried to sell me his dog. His dog!” I giggled, finding the edges of my words slightly slurred. “And no matter what I told him, he kept trying to convince me the meat would ‘taste like chicken’...” I glanced at Hans out of the corner of my eye, but he didn’t seem to mind the story. I took another deep sip of the gin. “The man was drunk as a skunk, and I almost took him up on the offer. Not for the meat, mind,” I added quickly, “I don’t frown at any kind of meat, but that skinny hound would have been gamey as hell. Would have just been bad business to buy him for that. No, I wanted to buy him because I didn’t like to see the way he treated the poor thing.” I sighed. “It probably sounds hypocritical, but I hate to see an animal suffer-” I tapped my chin thoughtfully “-You know, maybe I should get a beast like that for around here. I’ve sure got enough bones lying around.”

I smiled, taking another sip and glancing at the orc again. He seemed to be listening quietly, his head tilted slightly towards me as he looked up at the heavens. He took a deep drag from his horn, and I watched his lips curl around the cup with a hungry eye.

“Though I’d want a big dog,” I said quickly, dragging my eyes away from his face. “Those tiny yappers they keep around in those big houses are only good for kindling.”

That garnered me a short, huffing snort. I thought it might even be a laugh. I grinned, tracing the rim of my cup with my thumb.

“Would be hard to find one around here, even if I had the coin to buy it.” I shrugged, tossing back the last of my gin and reaching for the bottle. “Probably better I don’t. Big old hound like that would probably stink…”

I dropped off as my hand brushed his, also reaching for the bottle. We froze again, and I craned my neck back to look up at him. His big eyes met mine, and I felt my mouth drop a little to see the way the moonlight glimmered there. Somewhere in the distance, a lute started playing amid the soft chatter of the tavern through an open door.

He turned his hand suddenly, catching mine in it and swallowing it up in his palm. I blushed a little, feeling my ears burning hotter than the midday sun. But I didn’t pull my hand away. Slowly, he brought it up, looking down at it. Running his big thumb over my knuckles. His hand was firm and strong, and quite warm, but despite the callouses, his touch was very soft and gentle. He turned it over, thumbing open my fingers to trace his fingers over my rough palms.

“...Worker’s hands…” I murmured apologetically, feeling suddenly a little ashamed I didn’t have the soft, pristine hands of a lady.

He shook his big head, his thick locks like a lion’s mane about him. “... I like them.”

He brought my hand up higher, unhurried, bending down slightly to meet it. Then he haltingly traced my knuckles lightly in a line along his lips. My breath fluttered in my chest, and I was sure my heart skipped more than one beat. In fact, I was pretty sure it had stopped all together. His large tusk brushed against my finger as he moved my hand slowly back and forth, sending a little shiver of excitement racing down my spine.

I had subconsciously shifted a little closer, and when his eyes lifted again, I was nearly leaning against his huge bicep. Our eyes met again, and we sat in silence for a long moment.

“I should be going.” He rumbled finally, beginning to straighten up.

“Oh…” I breathed, finally finding the air returning to my lungs in a rush. It came ladened with more than a small helping of disappointment.

But he didn’t release my hand as he stood, so I stood as well. Standing perhaps just a hair too close to him than was necessarily appropriate. My eyes flicked to his big lips, and I saw them twitch slightly under my scrutiny.

His free hand went to the pouch at his belt, and he turned, digging through it for a moment. He turned over my hand as he did, then pressed three gold coins into my palm and closed my fingers around it.

“But-”

“I want to buy a pig.” He interrupted before I could finish my protest. “A whole roast pig.”

I was surprised, and looked down at his hand clasped around mine. “Three gold would buy you two pigs! Maybe three!”

He shrugged. “Then I want three pigs.”

“But-”

“How long?” He interrupted again, and I felt him squeeze my hand in his gently.

I fell silent, breathing in the warm night air. Each breath I drew felt thin, and my heart pounded so loudly against my ribcage I was sure he could hear it. I tried to find a reasonable answer to his question amid my spinning thoughts.

“Four days.” I replied finally, then remembered something, turning to dig in my pocket with my own free hand. “Wait, I have your change from the gin-”

“Keep it.”

“But-”

He growled softly, effectively cutting me off again. My eyes jumped up, but his big brow seemed smoother. Not angry or annoyed. He studied my face for a moment, then reached up and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Get some more gin… it was good.”

He finally dropped my hand, shuffling in place for a moment before turning with a grunt. He walked over to where his armor rested, draped on the fence. I watched him, unsure what to do with myself in that moment. Finding myself at a loss for words.

Gathering up his armor, he tossed it over one shoulder, then looked back at me. I gave him a cheery smile, but dropped my gaze shyly. I heard him shift his weight.

“Four days.” He promised.

I didn’t have the strength to lift my head until I heard him opening the repaired gate. Then I watched him disappear into the night, my head spinning.

...

UPDATE: Part Three HERE

#slow burn #orc lover #orc boyfriend #monster boyfriend #monster lover #monster x human #terato #dnd #exophilia #the secret we keep #oc #update #monster romance #budding romance #other tags here

160 notes · View notes

stardust-walker · 3 years

Text

High Hopes

word count: 4014

Chapters: 1 2 3

Chapter 4

The weirdest thing is that a few months ago, Dove wouldn’t think that listening to kids running and playing would sound as sweet as it did.

A small chuckle escaped her as she sat on the steps leading into Dale’s RV. The horrified look on Glenn’s face as he stopped mid-greeting was just as amusing.

“Well. Good morning to you too, sunshine,” Dove squinted as she stood up and moved to stand next to him.

“When did they start tearing it apart,” Glenn frowned as he folded his arms in front of his chest.

Dove shrugged her shoulders, “’Bout a half an hour ago, I suppose.” She ran a hand through her dark hair as she turned her head slightly. Rick was finally awake again. Dove raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she greeted the newcomer. “Mornin’, Rick!”

“Go on! Tear it apart, you vultures.” Glenn scowled and shook his head. Dove couldn’t keep herself from letting out a snort of laughter.

“Generators need every drop of fuel they can get,” Dale stated matter-of-factly as he walked past them.

“He has a fair point. I’d rather have a shower than a fancy car,” Dove mumbled quietly.

“I thought I’d get to drive it another few days,” Glenn sighed.

Dove turned her head slightly as Rick responded, “Maybe we’ll get to steal another one someday.”

This new way of living sure was a hell of a thing when you had a sheriff encouraging grand theft auto.

Dove placed a comforting hand on Glenn’s shoulder, “Maybe an even nicer one! One that’s not going to send an alarm running for miles next time too.” Glenn just let out an annoyed sigh.

Glenn seemed to be resigned to the fact that his car was being torn apart by Jim. Dove patted his shoulder again as she watched him step forward to converse with the other man. Knowing him, he was still probably trying to talk about what a cool car it was to anyone who would listen.

A revving engine caught the attention of a few members of the camp as Shane pulled up. He announced, “Make sure to boil the water before use.”

Carol made her way over to Dove. “Too bad about Glenn’s car, huh?”

The response caught in Dove’s throat as a shrill scream erupted from the woods close by, followed by another voice screaming “Mom!!”

A panicked look was exchanged between the sisters for a moment and then they were both off. Carol screamed for Sophia and the relief was obvious on Dove’s face as the little girl broke through the trees with Carl hot on her heels.

Tiny arms wrapped themselves around her waist as Dove knelt quickly to survey her niece for any marks. “Are you alright, Soph? Nothing bit you?” Sophia shook her head quickly, only able to muster up a panicked whimper. Carol finally broke through the trees behind her and let out a relieved cry as Sophia released her aunt with a cry of, “Mommy!!”

Dove glanced around quickly before she pointed back towards camp. “Take them back now! I’m just gonna make sure everything’s alright!” Carol nodded her head and scooped Sophia up.

Lori, however, eyed her warily for a moment before the brunette disappeared into the tree line again.

As she broke through the trees she held back a hysterical laugh. They were just stood around the damn thing, beating it with sticks. So much for being evolved past a caveman brain.

Amy let out a disgusted groan as the walkers head was finally chopped off.

Dale muttered, “That’s the first one we’ve had out here.”

Jim replied, “They must be running out of food in the city.”

Dove looked over at Amy and Andrea. Both of the sisters were just looking on like a couple of deer in the headlights and she couldn’t blame them. She felt a little nauseous herself.

Branches snapped in the woods and all conversation stopped. Andrea put a protective arm around Amy and Dove took a slow step forward towards the men. Curiosity was a bitch of a thing, but she wanted to see what exactly was going to happen.

Her heart leapt into her throat and plummeted back to her stomach as Daryl Dixon came into view. Her eyes locked with Jim’s in a moment of panic before she quickly looked down at her feet. Honestly, she would rather have a walker run out of the woods right now than have to face the inevitable.

Daryl looked pissed already. Definitely a good sign for them. “That was my deer. Look at it! All gnawed on by this filthy, disease ridden, motherless, proxy bastard!”

Dale shook his head in disgust, “Now come on, son. That’s not helping anyone.”

Daryl’s temper flared up again as he stepped quickly over the walker, headed right for Dale. Dove took a quick step closer to Rick as she eyed the officer, trying to communicate that this was not a good sign. “What do you know about it, old man? Why don’t you take that stupid hat and go back to ‘on golden pond’?”

A surprised laugh, which was able to be quickly covered up as a cough escaped Dove’s lips. Glenn elbowed her slightly in the side and narrowed his eyes once he had her attention. The woman merely shrugged as she turned her attention back to the dead animal. Her stomach did begin to rumble at the thought of venison, or anything other than squirrels for that matter. A sigh left her lips as Shane stated, “I wouldn’t risk that.”

Daryl’s focus drifted to her, almost asking for another opinion. Dove shrugged her shoulders before she slipped her hands into her back pockets, “As good as it sounds, it’s too risky. We got kids to think about and what if they eat tainted meat? Get sick?”

Daryl sighed and shook his head, “Damn shame. I got a few squirrels though. ‘Bout a dozen or so. That’ll have to do.” The calmness in the air broke as the walker head at her feet started snapping its jaw again. Dove let out a startled shriek and stumbled back into Glenn as Daryl shot an arrow into it’s brain. “Gotta be the brain. Don’t ya’ know nothin?”

The focus of the group shifted again as Daryl stalked off towards camp. Dale looked startled, “I don’t see this going well.”

Shane removed the hat from his head as the group started to walk, Dove started to take longer strides to keep up with the two officers. She heard Shane mention Daryl’s name and spoke up.

“I think you guys really need to think about doing this,” Dove spoke, concern in her voice. “I think you oughta try and break it to him as gently as possible. People like him tend to react violently, plus he seems pretty hyped up from losing that deer.”

The two men kept moving, but Rick glanced over his shoulder at her. “What’d you do before this?”

“I was a therapist. Getting ready to work on my PhD. Why?”

She didn’t miss the look the two men exchanged and fell back a step. Glenn flinched as he heard Daryl yell for Merle. “This is gonna be a shit show,” Glenn sighed.

Dove shook her head as Shane stopped Daryl in his tracks. “Poor guy. I got money on Dixon, though. He’s a scrapper.” She whispered so only Glenn could hear. Glenn let out a nervous chuckle as the two of them came to a stop next to the Jeep.

“There was a problem in Atlanta.” Seriously, Dove thought, he’s going to drag it out like this? What a mess.

“He dead?” Dove gripped Glenn’s wrist a little tighter than she meant to as she took a step closer to him.

“We’re not sure.”

“He either is or he ain’t!” Dove couldn’t really blame him for being so angry. She could only imagine how mad she would be if it were Carol on that roof. She would probably be trying to kick the ass of anyone she could find.

“No easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it,” Rick stated as he finally took a step forward. What a time to play good cop, bad cop.

Rick introduced himself, only to be met with, “Rick Grimes, you got somethin’ you wanna tell me?”

“Your brother was a danger to us all. So I handcuffed him on a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal,” Rick finished. Damn, she had to admire how he got right to the point about it. “He’s still there.”

Daryl started pacing like a caged animal. “Hold on. Let me process this. You’re saying you handcuffed my brother to a roof and you left him there?” Daryl shouted. Dove could feel her pulse quickening as a million and one ways that she was trained to de-escalate someone this angry ran through her head. None of them seemed to make any sense right now under the heat from the burning Atlanta sun.

The next few seconds were a blur. Daryl yelled, Dove let out a startled yelp as the squirrels flew towards her, she stepped back closer to Glenn, and just like that, Daryl was on the ground. T-Dog stepped forward, shouting something about a knife. Dove took a few slow steps forward, eyes wide as saucers as she watched Shane bring him down in a chokehold after a few swings of a knife.

“Chokeholds illegal,” Daryl managed to choke out.

Shane sounded too comfortable with it for Dove’s liking. “Yeah, well, file a complaint.” Dove argued with herself internally as she watched Daryl keep struggling to be let go.

Rick knelt in front of the other two men, clearly trying to calm the situation down. “I’d like to have a calm discussion on this topic.”

Dove scowled as she squatted down between the two officers. “Not to tell you how to do your job, but it’s awful hard to have a calm discussion with a man whose air supply is being cut off,” she finished through gritted teeth.

Rick glanced at her and nodded before he turned back to Daryl, “You think we can manage that?”

The two officers nodded at each other and Dove stood up quickly as Daryl finally got released. She watched for a moment, still in shock about what just happened, when she saw Daryl still trying to catch his breath as he pointed at Shane. Dove turned quickly and placed a hand on Shane’s arm. “Just back up, man. Rick’s got it. You don’t need to be bad cop right now,” she pushed him back gently before she walked past the other two men, joining Lori by the steps to the RV.

“You good,” the other woman asked, her eyes not leaving the scene in front of her.

“Yeah just adrenaline rush. I’m fine,” Dove nodded as she brushed her hair out of her eyes. She turned her head slightly and met Carol’s worried gaze through the window of the RV. Dove held her hand up and nodded her head.

“It’s not Rick’s fault,” T-Dog interjected and suddenly the focus was on him. “I had the key. I dropped it.”

Daryl snapped again, “You couldn’t pick it up?”

“Well, I dropped it in a drain.” Dove couldn’t help but roll her eyes at this. This just sounded worse and worse the more they tried to explain it to him. At least no one was dead yet.

Her heart sank as she folded her arms in front of her chest, her focus shifted with everyone else’s as the men moved slowly around camp. She knew that Daryl and his brother were close but, shit. She didn’t expect to see him cry for even a second. One of her hands flew up to cover her mouth as she looked down at her feet.

She wasn’t surprised when Daryl shouted. “Hell with all y’all. Just tell me where he is so’s I can go get em.”

What truly shocked her was Lori. The older woman spoke up from her spot by the door at this. “He’ll show you. Won’t you?” She almost insisted with just her words as she locked eyes with her husband.

Dove was torn between following Lori back into the RV or following after Rick as the conflict came to a close. She, instead, chose to check on Carol and Sophia. Her steps were quiet as she walked up the steps to the RV. Dove slid into the seat at the table opposite of her family and reached a hand out to stroke Sophia’s arm. “Hey, bug. You were real brave out there today,” Dove spoke softly as Sophia lifted her head from her mother’s arms.

Sophia sniffled and rubbed her eyes before she looked between the two sisters. “I was really scared,” the young girl whispered.

Dove smiled a little and nodded her head. “I was too, bug. But you did the right thing by runnin like that. Hell, I don’t think either of us knew you could run that fast!” Carol chuckled softly at this as she stroked the young girl’s hair.

“She’s right, Sophia. You kept yourself safe. That was the right thing to do.” Carol kissed the top of her daughter’s forehead before she whispered for her to do something that sounded a lot like ‘go check on Carl’.

Dove drummed her fingers on the table as her thoughts raced through her head. Carol’s voice finally pulled her out of her own head. “You want to go with them, don’t you.” Carol stated in a hushed voice.

Dove’s eyes shot up. Her hazel eyes widened a little bit as she felt color rush to her cheeks. “I…I was thinking about it.”

Carol clicked her tongue and shook her head. “I don’t want my sister out there dyin’ for someone like Merle Dixon.” Her voice didn’t raise above a whisper, though she didn’t sound pleased at all.

Dove rolled her eyes at this. “That’s not what I was thinking of!”

“Then what were you…”

Dove cut her older sister off as she reached out and took her hand, “What if that was me up there, huh? Or you? Would you want me to just leave you up there like that to die?” Dove hissed. “It’s the right thing to do, Carol. Merle or not, it’s the right thing to do.”

Carol’s eyes widened slightly as she took in her sister’s words and nodded her head slowly. “If that’s what you want to do, I can’t stop you. But I just want you to be careful. I don’t want to be explaining to Sophia why her aunt isn’t around anymore.”

A small smirk graced Dove’s face as she squeezed Carol’s hand gently. “Oh please. I’m always careful.”

It was Carol’s turn to roll her eyes as Dove rose from her seat, kissed her older sister on the top of her head, and descended the stairs out of the RV.

Dove looked around camp before spotting Daryl by the fire. She took a long deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth before trudging forward. “Hey, you alright?” Dumb question.

“What kinda stupid question is that,” Daryl snapped at her.

Dove raised both her hands in front of her, a tired expression on her face. “Right. Guess I deserved that, it was pretty fucking stupid huh.”

Daryl just stared at her for a moment. He had the type of eyes that made her uneasy sometimes; eyes that could stare right into your soul if you’d let them. “What do you want?”

Dove let out a heavy sigh as she watched Carol approach her laundry station out of the corner of her eye. She stood up a little straighter and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I wanna go with you and Rick. Try to bring back Merle. I figure the more people, the better. Plus, y’all might need someone to balance out all the testosterone in that car.”

Daryl stared at her again for a few seconds before scoffing at her. “Don’t need no one else out there, especially not you. Can you even shoot a gun?”

Dove grinded her teeth together as she nodded her head slowly. “Well, excuse me. I may not know how to shoot a gun but I am just as capable as Andrea and Jacqui and they go out into the city all the time! Give me a blunt object and I can take out any walker just as good as a gun, I bet.” Her hands were shaking as she unfolded her arms and shoved her hands in her pockets.

“Alright.” Daryl turned his attention from her.

Dove’s jaw almost dropped in shock as she stood still. “Excuse me?”

Daryl turned back to face her, eyes narrowed slightly. “You heard me, girl. You’re grown, you wanna go? Can’t stop ya. Just don’t expect to get your ass saved.”

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t,” a serene smile was on Dove’s face now.

Shane would definitely have to learn to hold his tongue if they were going to bring Merle back as he called Merle a “douchebag”.

Daryl pointed at the man, “Hey, you better watch what you say!”

Shane nodded his head all sincerely before uttering, “No no. Douchebag’s what I meant.”

Dove rolled her eyes and brought the palms of her hands up to rub her eyes, “Dear god what did I do to deserve this.”

Lori spoke up from her seat by what would be that night’s fire. “So what? You and Daryl, that’s your big plan?”

Carol eyed Dove for a moment before the group’s attention shifted to Glenn. “Oh come on!”

Rick spoke, “You know the way. You’ve been there before. In and out, no problem! You said so yourself.” He was right. Glenn wasn’t shy about telling everyone in the group how well he knew the city and he had dug his own grace.

“That’s just great. Now you’re gonna risk three men?” Shane scoffed.

T-Dog spoke up next, “Four.”

Daryl scoffed, “My day just gets better and better, don’t it?”

Dove rolled her eyes, “Might as well get this out of the way now and make it five.”

Dale glanced between them all and nodded his head. “That’s five.”

Shane shook his head and began to pace a little bit. “You’re putting every single one of us at risk. Just know that, Rick. C’mon. You saw that walker! It was here. It was in camp,” Shane lectured. “They come back, we need every able body we’ve got. We need em to protect camp.”

Rick nodded his head, “Sounds to me like what you need is more guns.”

Dove’s head was spinning. Sophia shuffled her feet as Dove walked over to them. She knelt in front of the girl, taking her hands in her as the others talked about the guns. “Now you listen to me, alright? I’m gonna be just fine! I promise. I always am. But I need you to promise me something too okay?”

Sophia nodded her head and listened intently. “I need you to look out for your mama until I get back, okay? Just make sure everything’s alright. Hold down the fort for me. Promise?” She released Sophia’s hands and held a pinky out to her.

Sophia locked her pinky with her aunt’s before she wrapped her arms around her neck in a hug. “Be safe.”

Dove kissed her niece on the forehead before standing up and brushing off her knees. “Be safe, Carol.” Dove hugged her sister tightly before she turned to see what was going on.

Dove lifted herself into the back of the van, her eyes were beginning to glaze over from boredom as she waited before she almost leapt out of her skin at the sound of a horn honking. From the driver’s seat, Glenn let out a startled shout as Daryl stepped on the horn again. “C’mon let’s go!”

Dove rubbed her temples and muttered to herself before placing a hand on the crowbar that she’d managed to sweet talk out of Jim. She would definitely have to make sure that she made it back now.

The young woman blew a kiss to her family as the door to the back of the van was slammed shut and they pulled away.

It was oddly silent on the way to the city. Dove positioned herself so she could see out the front windshield. “This is the first time I’ve left camp in the past two months.” She whispered to Glenn and Rick.

Rick turned his head, a sympathetic look on his face. “You might not want to look until we get there, then. Might be a bit of a shock. Trust me on that one.”

Dove took in the man’s words for a moment before she turned and faced the back of the van again.

Daryl finally spoke up for the first time since they started on the road. “He best be alright.”

T-Dog sighed. “The only thing that’s getting through that door is us. He’s fine.”

The van finally lurched to a stop and Glenn called back, “We walk from here.”

Dove groaned as she pulled herself to her feet and hopped out of the back of the van. “Oh shit, I’m getting old.” She mumbled to T-Dog as he hopped down next to her.

T-Dog shook his head at her. “You’re getting old? Just wait ‘til you hit 30.”

Dove laughed quietly as she took off down the train tracks after the rest of the group.

Rick paused as they stepped through a space in the gate that led from the tracks to the road. “Merle first or guns?”

Daryl snapped. “Merle! We ain’t even havin this conversation.”

Dove shook her head and motioned towards Daryl with her free hand, the other still tightly gripping the crowbar. “I’m with him on this. I mean a human life or ammo?”

Rick stared at both of them, clearly trying to keep his cool “We are having this conversation. You know the geography, it’s your call.” He turned to Glenn as the group began to walk.

“Merle’s closest. The guns would mean doubling back.” Glenn stated and Dove wasn’t sure if he was lying or not, but she was grateful for that nonetheless.

Her hazel eyes seemed to take in everything that had happened to Atlanta as they walked through the city. The city she had worked in and know so well was practically gone in a matter of weeks. It made her chest feel tight to see everything, but she knew she couldn’t stop moving.

She stepped lightly into the department store behind T-Dog and in front of Glenn as she went. She stopped, crowbar raised as a walker made it’s way through the aisles of the store. Daryl didn’t waste any time shooting the thing through the head.

Glenn moved forward and directed them to a staircase. It was a lot farther up than it looked, or maybe she was out of shape, but the steps were seeming to take their toll on her as they worked their way towards the roof.

The men reached the last landing as Dove rounded the corner just a few steps behind them. She took the last few steps slowly as she watched Daryl kick the door open after the chain was finally cut.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. She observed as she ran up the last few steps out onto the roof with the others. Merles Dixon was not a quiet man and he surely would’ve reacted to a door being kicked the fuck open.

Daryl’s screams for his brother turned into screams of panic. Dove’s heart dropped as she stepped out onto the roof behind Glenn and she saw it. A hand flew up to cover her mouth as she fought back the urge to vomit. Merle’s hand laid there on the ground next to a bloody hacksaw but Merle Dixon the man was gone.

@crossbowking

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #Daryl DIxon fic #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x oc #daryl x reader #carol peletier #The Walking Dead #twd fanfic #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #my writing

13 notes · View notes

pressedinthepages · 4 years

Text

Love

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Ciri & Eskel (Platonic/Familial), Geralt/Eskel, Lambert/Aiden

Rating: T

Masterlist

a/n: No request this time, just wanted to write something soft.

thanks to @sometimesiwrite for being a great beta/idea machine/friend :)

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: language, softer than a freshly washed puppy, ~yearning~

Ciri asks about love.

“Hey, Uncle Eskel?”

Ciri’s voice, smooth and level with her age, rings over the ramparts from which Eskel currently hangs. Vesemir has given them all a chore for the afternoon, and Eskel is finishing closing a gaping maw in the structure of the inner wall of the keep. He is just barely perched on a scaffold, reaching to place the last stone in a spot that’s *just* outside of his reach.

Eskel turns to look down at Ciri, her ashen hair shining bright in the waning sun. He huffs as the breeze catches his dark hair and flops it down into his eyes. Ciri giggles, a sweet sound that she has yet to grow out of. Gods, I hope she never does, Eskel thinks.

“Yes, Swallow?” Eskel is pretty proud that of all the dumb things Lambert and Geralt tried to nickname Ciri, his was the one that stuck.

Ciri crosses her arms over her chest, looking all the world like Geralt whenever he has his mind set on something that is almost certainly an inconvenience for Eskel. “After supper, I would appreciate your insight on some personal matters.” Ciri winks, her proper tone eclipsed by a chuckle just under her breath.

Eskel grins a bit, thinking back on their previous discussions. She’s grown up quite a bit, still on the earlier side of twenty, but her mind is sharp as a blade, and her tongue even sharper. “Of course, it would be an honor.” Eskel bows where he hangs, making his position even more precarious. He hears the quick intake of breath from Ciri and sits back up, smiling wide even as his scar pulls at his lip.

“Don’t worry, little one,” Eskel says, switching the stone to his other hand before leaning back to the hole. “You’ll not get rid of me that easily.”

Shortly after, Eskel and Ciri get to the supper table just as Lambert is serving. He’s on cooking duty all week, which works out well for everyone. He’s got the most agreeable palette, and he uses it well. However, next in the rotation is Geralt. He has the most sensitive nose out of all of them so he doesn’t season, and can’t cook a bird for shit. Eskel plans on appreciating his younger brother’s cooking as much as he can before the next week of bland meat and undercooked bread.

“Eat up, fuckers.” Lambert sets a large dish on the table, a hearty roast full of venison and root vegetables that had been stored away before the frost set in. A layer of lightly spiced shortcrust covers the top, and is served alongside tankards of ale and a hunk of dark bread.

“Smells delicious, Lambert,” Ciri calls after his retreating form. Eskel sees how the tips of his ears blush as he pours some of his “vodka” (which is really just shitty leftover potion water) into his tankard, but Eskel only smiles down into his plate. Vesemir joins them too, and the four of them tuck into the generous offering.

Their peace is short-lived though, cut off by the abrupt clang of the great doors flying open. Geralt stomps into the common area where they all sit, and Eskel wrinkles his nose. Geralt is soaked head to toe, and he smells like a mix between a decaying fish and a little bit of vomit after too much spicy food.

Lambert clearly picks up on it too, offering Geralt a sip of his drink. “Drowner duty?”

Geralt grunts as he sits across from Ciri, bumping Eskel’s shoulder as he helps himself to the dinner. Geralt moans a bit as he takes the first bite, and Eskel shudders at the sound. He’s always been weak for Geralt’s voice, especially with how rarely he actually uses it.

They eat quickly now, forced to scarf it down in an effort to escape the devastating scent that Geralt brought to the table. Eskel drains the last of his ale and grabs an apple, slicing it in half and handing some to Ciri. She whips out her own dagger and cuts away the core before portioning it neatly into several smaller mouthfuls.

Geralt sighs before pushing himself to stand, a whole new waft of nauseating aroma settling with the sudden movement. “I’m going to wash.”

“Thank Melitele’s sweet tits, I thought you were just gonna make that part of your ~look~ now, pretty boy.” Lambert leans back with his boots kicked up on the table, carving a crude drawing into a pear from the table. Geralt walks quietly away from the table before turning abruptly and swinging his leg wide, catching Lambert’s chair and yanking it out from under him. He flails wildly before his ass hits the ground and he turns to grab at Geralt’s ankle. But he has already torn off towards the baths, and Lambert huffs before scrabbling to his feet and chasing after him, his pear long forgotten.

Vesemir sighs in the now much quieter room, also standing and picking up his plate. “Well done on that wall today Eskel. Looks much better.”

“Thanks, wasn’t anything too difficult.”

“Maybe so, but I still appreciate it.” Eskel smiles as Vesemir walks away, letting himself revel in the praise for a moment.

Ciri clears her throat, bringing Eskel back to the matter at hand. “Library?” She asks, and Eskel nods. He takes Ciri’s plate and sets them into the washbasin for a later time. They trek up the stairs and push open the heavy wooden door. Eskel lights the fire with a flick of his fingers and the room instantly warms, the air light and swirling around them.

Eskel watches as Ciri plops down onto the dense fur in front of the fire, warming her hands as the orange light dances over her face. He walks over to his trusty copy of the Beastiary, only to pick it up and find it much lighter than he would expect. He opens it, and instead of his glass bottle of White Gull, there is a note in the hollowed-out hole.

‘Maybe pick a less obvious hiding place, douche-canoe.’

The handwriting is scrappy and small, just like the younger witcher that wrote it. Eskel sighs before turning to another bookcase, finding a heavy tome that Jaskier had left for him a few years prior. He flips this one open and finds two small flasks of Toussaint wine, which is certainly better than nothing.

Eskel walks silently over to Ciri and hands her one of the glasses before sprawling out beside her. They sit in silence for a while, as has become tradition while Ciri gathers her thoughts. They both sip at the wine, and Eskel needs to remember to write a letter to Jaskier at Oxenfurt for saving his ass tonight.

“I have to warn you Eskel,” Ciri murmurs, and Eskel looks over to her with a crook of his brow. “This isn’t going to be an easy one.”

Eskel hums, taking another sip of wine. “Never is, kid.”

Ciri takes in a deep breath, steeling herself with a long chug of the alcohol in her grasp. “How do you know if you’re in love with someone?”

Eskel’s eyes widen imperceptibly, and he can feel how his heart skips a beat. “Damn Ciri,” he chuckles, “you weren’t kidding when you said this wouldn’t be easy.”

Ciri only shrugs with a smirk. Eskel shifts a bit, partially to get himself more comfortable, and partially to give himself more time to think. He can only wiggle around for so long before it gets weird for everyone though, so he just ends up tucking his legs underneath him and taking another long drink of wine.

“Well, I-”

“Have you ever been in love, Eskel?” Ciri turns to him, her bright gaze shocking on even the best days. Now they bore straight through Eskel, and he feels like she is peeling away the layers of mortar he has so carefully laid around his heart for the past, oh, century or so. Eskel thinks back, trying to remember the moment that he knew what love was.

And then he tries to figure out how to tell Ciri that he knows what love is like because of her father. Geralt showed him what it was like to feel out of breath whenever they were more than a hairs’ breadth apart. And then the all-encompassing relief that sang through his bones whenever they reunited. They showed each other how to accept this part of their lives that had been so desperately ignored, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

But that’s a lot. Geralt is terrible with words and feelings, and Eskel is not much better. Ciri looks at him expectantly, with all of the air of royalty running low on patience. Ciri is eternally patient though, especially with all of the practice she has had with Geralt.

Eskel is just about to open his mouth when he hears stomping down the hallway, and he waits until Lambert pushes open the old door with enough force to send the snow into an avalanche over the mountains. He, now, is soaking wet, though instead of drowner guts he only smells of the clean mineral water that flows into the springs beneath the keep. Eskel smirks up at him as he traipses over to where the two of them sit, dropping himself unceremoniously into one of the soft chairs that rests not far from the fire. “Geralt throw you in?”

Lambert hums in the affirmative, seemingly harboring no further ill-will towards him. “What are you two chucklefucks talking about?”

Ciri pipes up, seemingly (for whatever reason) interested in Lambert’s opinion. “I asked Eskel what it feels like to be in love.”

Lambert’s face looks as though he was just violently slapped with a fish, glancing over to Eskel who only offers a shrug in return. Eskel is expecting a long-winded rant about how ‘Witchers don’t love, it makes you soft, and a soft Witcher is a dead Witcher…’ blah blah blah, but that’s not what he gets. Instead, Lambert kind of sinks further into his seat and his eyes turn tender, and Eskel realizes that he’s getting a glimpse into the Lambert that the world so rarely sees.

“Wanna know what I think about love, little beetle butt?”

Ciri nods, turning more fully towards Lambert. Eskel does the same, curious to see what his youngest brother has to say. Eskel holds out his half-empty flask, handing it to Lambert in a silent offer of support. Lambert drains the remainder of the wine in one gulp, the bastard, before he smiles a bit as he loses himself in his thoughts.

“I think that love is-” Lambert sighs, searching for the right words, “love is indescribable. You don’t know what it is until you have it, and then you never want to let it go.”

Eskel nods at Lambert’s words, letting them resonate in his mind. He never quite feels right anymore without Geralt at his side, his body and soul yearning for their other half in a way that cannot be depicted with mere words.

“Ciri, I haven’t got a clue about whatever you’ve got going on,” Lambert wags his finger in the air, and Eskel can see just how influenced the youngest of them was by Vesemir. “But life, especially human life, is too short to dwell on shit that will fester and bubble under your skin if you don’t let it out.”

“But how do I know?” Ciri whispers, and Eskel’s heart breaks for her. Gods, he has spent decades asking himself that exact same question, and he still doesn’t really have an answer.

“You’ll know when it’s not a question anymore.” Lambert stares off into the fire, watching the flames lick up into the air, chasing the wayward embers into the dark of the ceiling. Eskel is kind of stuck, Lambert’s words ringing through his head. When it’s not a question anymore. Fuck, when did the little prick actually get smart?

Ciri rolls over, pressing a gentle kiss to Eskel’s cheek, right over the angriest of his scars. “Thank you, Uncle Eskel. And you, Uncle Lambert,” she gives him a kiss on the cheek as well, and leaves them alone to their thoughts.

Eskel looks over at Lambert, seeing in bright relief the decades that have worn this man raw, and wonders just how he can still have room for love in his heart. “Who is it?”

Lambert sighs, hanging his head a bit. “I met him on the Path. We’ve been...traveling together now for a couple of years. He’s uh-he’s the best man I’ve ever met.”

Eskel smiles wide once more, scooching closer to where Lambert sits. “I’m happy for you, Wolf. Why haven’t you told us?”

“He’s another Witcher, and a Cat no less.” Eskel blinks at this, but the way that Lambert looks at him, vulnerable and exposed, shuts up any errant thoughts he may have had. “Besides, like you have room to talk. You’ve been pining after Geralt for how long? A century? Two?”

Eskel throws his shoe at Lambert, catching him on the shoulder. Fuck, I need to work on my aim. “Shut up. I’m working on it.”

Lambert scoffs as he stands up, chucking Eskel’s boot back over his shoulder. “Right, well. Once you figure it out, let me know. By that point, I’ll be retired on the coast with a whorehouse next door. You’ll know where to find me.”

Lambert is almost to the door when Eskel’s arms wrap around him, strong enough to bruise a rib if he wasn’t a Witcher. “Shit, Eskel! Let go of me, you great oaf!”

Eskel gives one last squeeze before he relents, grabbing Lambert by the arm before he can take off running. “Thank you, Lambert, and I promise. I won’t tell anyone before you’re ready.”

Lambert glances down to the ground with a great breath in, his golden eyes catching Eskel’s when they return. “Thanks, brother.”

“Of course, Wolf.”

#uncle!eskel #eskel & ciri #gereskel #aiden x lambert #the pining is real with this one

31 notes · View notes

darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts · 4 years

Text

Ieyasu and Chilli

This is a touch of madness that came from the wonder that is Discord, my 2am brain and a lot of supportive encouragement from a bunch of friendly enablers.

@umbralaperture @tsundere-mitsuhide @silver-fox-of-azuchi @jennacat84

I hope you all enjoy it.

Masterlist

---

Ieyasu and Chilli

Imagine if you will a tiny timid little creature. No this is not a height joke aimed at our fluffy contrarian.

For those of you unaware of what a Dik-dik is they are tiny antelopes (30-40cm in height and 50-70cm in length.) So a baby one is well, smaller.

Image is not mine it was from a newpaper article and all credit goes to the photographer for capturing such cuteness. *link for article is here

This is also the creature that Mai came into the castle carrying in her arms after somehow liberating it from a merchant.

“What have you got now?” Ieyasu stops in his tracks on his way out of the castle gate as she tries to slip past unnoticed.

“Oh! Ieyasu. I found this and wanted your advice on how to take care of it.” Mai’s shoulders jumped at being called but she quickly plastered a rather overly happy smile on her face and faked acting like everything was totally normal.

Yes, nothing to see here people just Mai carrying a rather small animal in her arms like a doll or a child. What do you mean she didn’t have that when she left earlier?

“Put it back.” His voice was firm and commanding. His green eyes flicked briefly to the creature before holding a very stone-cold glare at his girlfriend.

“What?”Her eyes went wide. For some reason, she never thought he would tell her that. I mean this is Ieyasu. Her Ieyasu. The one that has a deer living in his garden at his mansion to prevent Masamune tuning it into venison burgers.

“Go and put that thing back wherever you found it. You don’t know where it’s been and there is more than enough work around here for both of us without adding caring for a rodent.”

“He isn’t a rodent! He’s a... deer-like something.” Actually, Mai had no idea as to the true name of the animal cradled in her arms. Sasuke was going to get paid a visit at some point so she could ask him if he knew.

“You don’t even know what it is and you are saying you want to look after it?” Ieyasu scoffed his tone was still cold but he was coming closer to her now so he could judge for himself if this thing was really not a threat.

“Look I found him. The guys at the dock caught him running around and put him in a cage. They were talking about roasting him.” Mai was pleading with her big eyes that seemed to be mirrored in the same way by the little creature in her arms. Great two sets of puppy eyes.

“I’m sure he’d make a very nice snack.” Ieyasu quipped remembering his own first encounter with Wasabi except he now seemed to have switched places with Masa. Not an idea he liked very much at all.

*GASP!* “Don’t listen to the nasty man Chilli you are no more a snack than Wasabi is rations.” Mai acted dramatically covering the ears of the little creature with her fingers.

She knew. Of course, she did she was his girlfriend and knew all about Wasabi and how he came to care for the deer. Curses.

“Don’t bring up Wasabi... and don’t name the thing you’ll get attached to it.” Ieyasu began trying to solidify how he was putting his foot down only to be brushed past by Mai as she continued into the castle. “Hey, you listening to me?!”

Regardless of his ever-constant protests, Ieyasu ends up watching the little creature even more closely than Mai. He can’t believe she brought him back to his manor with her and let him loose in his room.

“It that thing gets into my medicinal herbs you are getting the blame.”He grumbled but made sure to move anything that might be poisonous to the small deer creature out of reach.

“Oh, he’s fine. Look, he isn’t after herbs at all he’s more interested in your scarf.” Mai giggled.

“What!?” Her laughter was welcome but the sight of the small animal tugging on his clothing that had been placed nearby was not. “Oh no, you don’t.”Ieyasu rushed to take back the scarf that was being gently tugged. “Bad little deer thing. My scarf, not yours.”

He grabbed the fabric and yanked it a little harder than he realised the little animal made a noise as it rolled and then scampered under a chair to hide.

“Aww look what you did now it looks so frighted.” Mai crawled over and scooped up the trembling animal back into her arms. he watched it still at the sound of her heartbeat and then without saying a word he left the room feeling wretched for his own actions.

Later that evening Mai had managed to fall asleep. Chilli was near the brazier curled up like a cat with a small bowl for water and one that had some vegetables from the kitchen nearby.

He put down his book and decided to go to bed himself. blowing out the candle and getting changed he heard something pining. Chilli had moved to the futon and was trying to nudge Mai’s hand. He was only a baby after all so he was probably looking for comfort.

“You are hopeless.” Ieyasu huffed in a half-whisper. Taking his scarf and curling it up at the edge of the futon near Mai for Chilli. “Happy now?”

That night was probably the first time Ieyasu ended up wondering if this is what it was like to be a father.

When Mai is busy around the castle the little creature tries to keep up by very quickly tires out. It is rather like watching a duckling following its mother which is endearing but almost gave Ieyasu a heart attack when someone ran up to the Princess and nearly kicked the little thing, unaware of its existence.

“Have a care!” Ieyasu called out as he swiftly bent down to pick up Chilli before he could be kicked in the head.

“My lord?” The vassel was confused as they genuinely didn’t know what they had done to earn Ieyasu’s ire.

“Tell me is it part of basic training now that we simply blunder about without taking note of our surroundings or is it that something that is unique to you?” Ieyasu shot the man a pointed glare and turned swiftly walking away from both Mai and the stunned soldier carrying Chilli.

When Mai is in the castle now unless she is working on commissions Chilli is with Ieyasu.

Each has a bed for him in their rooms that are little more than a small round basket and some handmade bedding.

Mai originally only intended to make one for her room in the castle but after Ieyasu stopped by to bring her something from Nobunaga he noticed it.

“What? You think it’s dumb?” Mai asked noticing Ieyasu was lingering in her room longer than it took to just deliver missives. Realising his eyes were on the pet bed she had fashioned.

“I think it’s very you.” Aware he had been caught staring Ieyasu attempted to make it sound as if he thought her actions were childish.

“Well, luckily Chilli here seems to like my work.” Mai reached out and stroked the animal that he could have sworn developed a very smug look on its face after receiving her attention.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

“Did you want one for your room too?” Mai asked partly as a joke. She could see his ears were a little red and whatever unspoken misunderstanding she had over the pet bed was suddenly gone.

“Whatever.” Ieyasu left her room and returned to his mansion muttering to himself. He wasn’t going to be jealous of Chilli. Just because he got to be near Mai all the time. No that was ridiculous.

When Mai returned at night with a replica bed with bedding in different coloured fabric Ieyasu avoided looking at it until she was asleep. He ended up with the softest smile on his face as he stroked the curled up Chilli in the basket. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone.

Wasabi is a big fan of new friends. Unlike Ieyasu, she is much more open to new people and animal friends. That is after she has gotten over the timid part of her nature as a deer.

Chilli is practically the animal equivalent of a heart eyes emoji. As far as he is concerned Wasabi is a Deity and adores her. When she lays down and is much more ‘his level’ he popcorns around in little jumps and hops on, off and over her. Wasabi doesn’t mind in the slightest.

Their first encounter had Ieyasu more nervous than Mai. Chilli was put down on the ground near Wasabi as she was enjoying some food and there was a moment where Ieyasu looked like he was about ready to jump in and scoop up the tiny addition if Wasabi was in the slightest bit aggressive.

Think eagle watching a bunny as it hovered over it. Hideyoshi clearly passed some helicopter parenting skills down to the resident contrarian.

It didn’t happen. What did happen was Wasabi bent down and touched noses with Chilli, both wagged their tails at the other and then in a very welcome to the family gesture Wasabi took a small leaf from the bowl in Mai’s hand and gave it to Chilli.

“Looks like you were worried for nothing then huh?” Mai laughed happily seeing the two getting along.

“I wasn’t worried.” Ieyasu said visibly relaxing slightly even if he was still observing like a hawk.

“Well, he can come outside and play at the manor now at least.” Mai smiled watching as Chilli investigated some of the flowers and rocks. A whole new world.

“Not without supervision.” Ieyasu stated flatly.

“You don’t think Wasabi will still hurt him?” Mai tilted her head at him.

“No, but it’s going to be a pain if he falls somewhere and gets stuck. You would never let me hear the end of it.”

Masamune came to visit the manor on Mai’s day off carrying something in his arms that was apparently a new dish he wanted her opinion on. Ieyasu was reading next to her as she put down her own book and tried the dish.

“It’s wonderful Masa. Maybe a little too sweet though.” Mai’s verdict was as honest as she was which didn’t insult the chef at all. He kept smiling and made a mental note so he could amend his recipe later.

“You’ve been hanging out with this one too long Lass next you’ll be telling me it’s not spicy enough and telling me to put more chilli in my curries.” Masa was as friendly as ever. Ieyasu had given up trying to prevent him from attempting to be near Mai and settled on being the chaperone to their friendship. The scarf around Ieyasu’s neck moved the little head of Chilli popped out from the fabric like a chick in an egg. Masa noticed the movement and his eye went wide.“What on earth?”

“Oh! right I guess you didn’t meet. Masa this is Chilli.” Mai reached out and peeled back some of the scarf that had pooled near Ieyasu revealing more of the little animal.

“Interesting. Deciding to grow your own herd now are ya? I’ll put in an order now shall I?” Masa reached out towards Chilli who darted back under the scarf and pressed itself as close as possible against Ieyasu.

“Don’t be ridiculous there isn’t enough of him to make any kind of a meal.” Ieyasu slapped Masa’s hand away.

“Yeah wanna bet on that one Lad cos I’m sure I could whip up something that-”

“You upset him and it upsets her. I don’t care what really happens to him but you upset Mai and I’ll relieve you of your other eye.” Ieyasu cut off Masa’s little joke with a warning as he stood up and carried both his book and Chilli away with him.

The laughter and teasing that happened in the castle at Ieyasu’s expense after that lasted for weeks. Every time Chilli appeared from under his scarf or was seen in his arms where he had picked them up because they had become too tired to carry on the teasing restarted.

As much as it annoyed him Ieyasu wouldn’t give up the little creature now if you paid him. He will say it is because of Mai. He doesn’t want her to be upset and that is true. What he won’t say is that he adores the small deer just as much as she does.

---

43 notes · View notes

dontasktheradiodemon · 4 years

Text

Makeup Session

Follow-up to a discussion (link to part of it) where @sluttyspiderpolkacock agreed to trade some venison sausage to Alastor if he agreed to get in drag. And then this follow-up discussion. So Alastor showed up at Angel’s room to get his makeup done, and also preemptively sulk about the fact that Angel thought he didn’t WANT his makeup done.

Angel

Something felt off. Tone was hard to read through text. It certainly didn't hold a candle to Angel's forte reading the body, but he was nonetheless possessed by conscience to descend the grand stairway to collect the aforementioned head from the freezer. Much as it shook him to his core to be using his precious palettes on the thing ( _mental as well as physical in the sense that he couldn't help feeling Vaggie's same shiver when the eyes locked on him_ ) , the spider found himself blending the finishing touches off a perfect cadaver's smoky eye before reaching for a radio. " Hey Smiles, if ya up, getcha grinnin' mug in 'ere. I got somethin' ta show ya. "

Alastor

Instead of responding, the radio crackles and plays a stanza of a 50s song with a female singer: “* Now if I call him on the telephone, and tell him that I'm all alone, by the time I count from one to four, I hear him knock, knock, knock, knock on my door—*”

Knock, knock, knock, knock. It’s the Radio Demon.

https://youtu.be/MeT9Glm_Jgg

Angel

" Hehe, very cute, Al. " Angel left the radio playing on his vanity and repositioned the head before going for the door. " So I did that practice run ya wanted, " he said lethargically with a flourish toward his station, " Not that I don't do up faces like yours on th' regula', but since ya _insisted..._ " Leaving the door open, he returned to the head and held it up to present his work in the light. " I went an' did it. Ya still game fa this look? "

Alastor

Alastor stepped in just enough for the door—pushed by who-knows-what—to swing shut behind him. He glanced over Angel's makeup station before focusing on the head. "Decided the head was useful after all?" he asked dryly. He glanced over the look—seemed like just smudged eye shadow, mascara, and lipstick, all basic black—and after only a second or two said, "It's fine."

Angel

" Usefu-? Nah, nah this was fa you! " he explained with a pull of his vanity seat to offer, " Bone structure's actually... _not_ that big a deal. With contourin', ya can pretty much create any shape ya want. A course, only within' the ma'gins a ya face, but even then ya can do a helluva lot. I once _completely_ erased my peripheral eyes fa a client. They got definition, but ended up lookin smooth as a bambino's ass. " Angel caught himself rambling with a sigh. Alastor only gave a fuck about the venison. He was wasting his time. _But---_ " ... What I _do_ wanna check out is ya skintone, though. I'd guess youse neutral all th' way through, but since we ain't human anymore an' the inside a the wrist trick ain't so reliable, I'd haveta experiment with ya cheeks. "

Alastor

"I said you could chuck it out if it wasn't useful." He unlatched his hands from where he'd clasped them behind his back, took the offered seat, hooked one ankle over the opposite knee, and sat perfectly straight. Very professional, not terribly welcoming. "I prefer the shape my face currently has."

He glanced at the head again. "Yes, well, that's why I decapitated somebody who matches my complexion." He paused. "I suppose that didn't last after freezing him, though. But how much skin tone matching do you need to do with black eye shadow and lipstick?"

Angel

" Ya ain't up fa foundation? It's beauty base level one, Sweetie, it evens ya out an'... " Angel hummed and took a moment to lean in to judge his skin. " ... Ya know what? Ya don't even need it. Youse one a the lucky ones. Who would a thought ~ ? " With a shrug of his shoulders, he took a knee and pulled a package of wipes from a drawer. " Should clean ya up some, though, just ta make this whole process easier. " He opened them up, a puff of a fresh, sweet scent emanating from the package. " Allow me, uh. " Eyes flickered to his posture. " Or you wanna handle it? " he asked, " No harsh chemicals or anythin', just clean an' good fa ya. "

Alastor

There's the slightest narrowing to his eyes that suggested he wasn't quite sure what "foundation" was, but, whatever it was, he didn't fully trust it.

The squint didn't quite go away when Angel withdrew the option of foundation; but he did offer some actual conversation. "I don't think my skin's entirely natural. Never looked into what's changed about it, though."

He glanced down at the package. "Go ahead." And, after a moment, he uncrossed his leg, leaned forward, and planted his elbows on his knees to give Angel easier access to his face.

Angel

He fluttered a short series of disbelieving blinks, not expecting him to pass any opportunity to take up something easy enough to handle himself. Nonetheless, he put on his professional poker face and started with gentle sweeps from his forehead. " Ok, close ya eyes, " he instructed as he continued.

" Whatcha meanin'? Ya sittin' in front a me while soundin' like youse comin' from a cell tower miles away. Ain't nothin' natural about the lot of us, anyways. "

With that, Angel started looking little more closely for indications of what he meant. " I don't... _think_ there's anythin' weird about it. And that's comin' from a perpetually peach-fuzzed _bitch,_ " he joked, " Ya tellin' me givin yaself a full body once over wasn't the first thin' ya did when ya dropped 'ere? "

Alastor

Alastor tisked to himself at Angel’s surprised blinks; the sound didn’t emerge from his own mouth, but as a click coming out of the still-on radio nearby.

“No, the *first* thing I did was look for pants. But of course examining my body was the second thing.” He shut his eyes obediently. “I mean it doesn’t act quite like skin is supposed to. Not in a way that’s ‘unnatural’ but ‘artificial.’ Doesn’t react to substances it’s supposed to, doesn’t smell like skin—” He made a vague, dismissive gesture. “Natural side-effect of being dead, no doubt. Never you mind. It doesn’t need foundation, I’m sure that’s all that matters.”

Angel

Angel couldn't help blowing a raspberry, but managed to duck and cover in time to avoid any inadvertent spitting.

" Right, _right_! Not _everyone's_ lucky enough ta have long luscious _fluff ~_ " he teased, quickly discarding the wipe before bringing out his choice of liquid liner.

" E'ryone's got their own musk. _Believe me._ Yours ain't the _worst._ If it does anythin' weird with my shit, we'll play it by ear. Open. " Angel uncapped the liner and drew a thin line on the back of his hand for Alastor to see. " This shit didn' come around until the 60s, but it sure beats melting a pencil with a lighter and sufferin' minor burns fa a killer cat eye, " he laughed before motioning for him to close his eyes again via his own.

" Don't worry. Ya good enough not ta need foundation. Ya probably ain't even gonna need much lip, either. Ya smile's gonna be takin' care a most a that. What _I'm_ gonna be havin' fun with _here,_ is givin' ya some pretty dramatic eyes! "

Alastor

“I know I’ve got my own musk. My musk smells like a machine, not a person.” He wasn’t kidding; he smelled like the interior of a secondhand electronics store, all burning dust and hot electrical components. He could hardly ever smell it himself, but he knew his scent.

He examined the liner briefly, then shut his eyes again. “I can handle the lipstick myself, when it comes to that.”

Angel

" Ok! I'll do it with ya so you can copy me, " he asserted, moderately chipper. Angel then habitually reached to steady his chin as he approached the first sweep, but stopped himself in favor of taking the challenge without any unnecessary contact. Instead, he braced an elbow upon his vanity and shut his left eye, as he did while aiming down iron sights. " Ya ever done it before? Or like, watched ya mammina? "

Alastor

“I’ve done it. Not in a while and I’m not quite as good without a stencil, but I’m not a complete embarrassment.” He does an admirable job of holding his head still while talking. “I expect lip stencils aren’t a thing anymore, are they? Can’t recall the last time I saw one.”

Angel

" Perfectin' the cupid's bow ain't no easy feat ~ " he commented as he worked, followed by a chuckle.

" They fell outta practice when people sta'ted realizin' they was mostly fa white chicks who ain't _got any._ _My_ theory is chola liner's some genius _shade_ about it... _Badumtss~_ "

" Can't imagine you'd be able ta see what'cha doin' if ya tried usin a stencil _now_ though, with that huge smile a yours takin' up half ya face! "

Amused with himself, he paused to chuckled a moment before the rest of what Alastor said processed. " _When_ 'ave ya done it before? "

Alastor

“Well, they work just fine on Creole gentlemen, too.” That liner joke is a mix of references a little too specific for Alastor to get, so he let it pass without comment. “No, of course I can’t see what I’m doing smiling like this. Why do you think I’m going to do my own lipstick?”

The corner of his mouth twitched wryly at Angel’s question. “Oh—pfff.” The huff came out as a burst of static as he rolled his eyes up and tried to remember. “Mainly the twenties, some in the forties... smattering of times since then... seventies or nineties or aughts—don’t think I ever did in the eighties. But probably only a dozen times in the last fifty years. Like I said, ‘not in a while.’”

Angel

" I know e'ryone _loves_ the 80s... " he groaned, " Unpopular opinion, but _somethin'_ went pretty fuckin' _wrong_ in that decade... " There's a twang of personal resentment to his tone, sharp as the glinted gold off razor clenched teeth.

" Ok, open up an look up so I can do the bottom. "

Though it disappeared just as quickly as he snickered at his own innuendo, further still as all eight eyes lit up.

" AH! So ya fuckin' DABBLED! What ELSE ya been holdin' out on me with, Al? Ya 'ad fun dickin' with drag? Would ya 'ave done it more if ya 'ad the chance? Figure bein' the fuckin', RADIO DEMON's a full time job, but wit' THAT kin'a title... ain't no one gonna be fuckin' wit' YOU. "

It did occur to him that the lack of frequency would answer his question, but he shoved the logic aside for his own wishful thinking. His fluff started to shimmy with excitement and he halted his work in favor of steadying himself on the ground as he were readying a running start.

Alastor

“I spent the 80s in the 10s. Missed most of it.” He opened his eyes and looked up.

“I’ve done it as much as I’ve cared to.” A shrug. “You know I have a skirt, I’m on the record as having sung a drag queen’s part on a musical album—and yet you’re surprised I’ve done drag? What did you think the skirt was for, flagging down taxis?” He scoffed. “I’m sure you must think I’m just another one of those *tediously* defensive men who have allergic reactions if anything even slightly delicate brushes their skin.” There was an edge to his voice that matched the tenseness in his posture since he’d come into the room.

Angel

" Nah-nah-nah, if youse anythin' it's fuckin' nothin' _I've_ ever known. " Angel smoothed himself out, taking a moment before cursing his season and getting back to work.

" Less than a musical number afte' learnin' youse this Ove'lord level hotshot who ate fuckin' cities fa breakfast, you were in th' kitchen treatin' the whole house ta dinner. If ya gonna kick my ass fa anythin', I know it ain't gonna be fa the same reasons I gotta be watchin' my back on th' streets, Da'lin'. "

He then sat back on his mile-long haunches to judge his handiwork from a distance. " Alright! Step Two's done! Whatcha think? "

Alastor

Alastor regarded Angel skeptically for a moment; but then finally relaxed a bit, some of the tension draining out of his shoulders. “And yet you were so convinced that I was looking for ways to wiggle out of this little meeting.”

He turned toward the mirror, studying the eyeliner. “Fine so far.” After a pause, he added, “You don’t think the smudged eyeshadow is going to be too much on top of my natural eyelid color, do you?”

Angel

" Youse a _dealmaker ~_ " he sang as he collected his shadow pallette, again showing Alastor test strokes on the back of his hand, " Wigglin' through loopholes what th' likes a ya do. Like an art. But th' kind that has fuckin', hidden scary shit subtext in th' background that haunts ya fa decades. An' I wasn't about ta let ya wiggle ya skinny ass outta _THIS~_ "

" I'll... " He scrutinized the shades before settling on a sparse swatch with subtle hints of glitter. " Work off whatcha got. Change a plans. I'm doin' ya lips a da'k red and enhancin' the natural shade a ya lids. "

Alastor

"You're right, I *am* a dealmaker. If I was that opposed to getting a little paint on my face, do you think I would have agreed so readily for nothing but a bit of sausage?" He scoffed again. "I agreed to your terms because there was no downside to them. Congratulations on managing to insert a downside that didn't previously exist in the terms—I wasn't expecting to get publicly accused of being too cowardly to wear makeup."

He eyed the new swatch doubtfully. "Do you have one that's less sparkly? Sparkles aren't terribly... me. I mean," he gestured at his ridiculous red getup, "that's not to say I'm not *flamboyant*—but I'm not *that* kind of flamboyant."

Angel

" Alright, alright, I'm sorry. I'll make it up t' ya an' take ya t' work wit' me sometime. _Not_ ta do wit' whatcha thinkin'. I'll show ya where I been gettin' all my shit, but ya _cannot_ be fuckin' seen. "

His conscience screamed, alarm bells wildly ringing throughout the backstage of his brain.

" New deal? " he asked with a new selection of charcoal grey, " I'm startin' ta think ya deserve better than a single color palette. It'll go with ya- I mean, MY, bowtie. "

Alastor

"*Thank* you!" At the apology, Alastor immediately brightened. "That's hardly necessary—but, I admit, I do wonder what you *are* going to pull out if 'what I'm thinking' has already been ruled out."

Alastor glanced over the newly proposed color and a game show bell dinged his approval. "How many palettes does one need to just cover eyes and lips?"

Angel

" Well, that last venison treat I got from th' street, but at work... we got a lot more where that came from. A candy store fa cannibalistic radio demons, " he joked, " Kiddin'. Specifically _not_ fa cannibalistic radio demons. Unless ya gonna _pay,_ but I doubt ya gonna be interested in th' usual package deal anyways. I'll just take ya in through the back. "

" Close ~ " Angel instructed once again before sweeping his brush, " As many as there are different tastes in th' world, Sweethea't. Not e'eryone's satisfied doin' or wearin' th' same thin' fa all a eternity. It gets _borin' ~ _ "

Alastor

"*Do* you? Maybe I was a little hasty when I decided the porn industry doesn't have anything that would appeal to me!" Laugh track. "I'll take that under consideration."

He closed his eyes. "I can hardly wear all of them at once! And I don't exactly have plans to do this again any time soon."

Angel

" I already introduced ya ta hentai. Am I gonna have ta show you vore, too? " A snicker. His crusade to find Alastor's niche interests had already been put to rest.

" That's a _shame ~_ Guess I better make this count then, ah? Ya gettin' mascara. By th' time I'm done wit' them lashes ya gonna be able ta clear a room wit' a couple bats. "

Alastor

"I've heard that one already! And ever since then, have been haunted by wondering what my rare voluntary victims get out of offering themselves up." He stuck out his tongue, bleh.

"Oh, good. I always enjoy clearing out a room with nothing but my face."

Angel

Angel couldn't help a flurry of giggles as he reached for his go-to wand. The _Radio Demon_ was _cute._

He applied the mascara generously, taking care to smooth out any clumps as he went. Bittersweetly, he sat back and kept himself from nitpicking any details to touch up for the sole sake of drawing out the process.

" Well, there ya 'ave it. The face of a _"Cha'min' Demon Belle"_ in ya _own_ right. Almost. Lemme find ya a bran' new one. Brushes an' applicators I wash, but lipstick goes directly on. "

Alastor

Alastor opened his eyes and leaned in toward the mirror to inspect the results. Angel was better with mascara than him. No surprise, really.

He had a new accent on when he next spoke: "Well! I do declare, you have done a simply *marvelous* job!" It was very much charming demon *Southern* belle, and he'd quite clearly practiced it before. He switched back to his usual voice before continuing: "I don't mind scraping off the last layer of germs with a hankie, it worked fine for us in New York." But he wasn't going to *complain* if he got a fresh one.

Angel

His jaw slacked. Of _course_ the amount of time and attention Alastor must've put into his voice would add up to him being able to pull off such a _sound_ outside his register. Much as Angel tried, he could never get nearly as close to sounding that _feminine,_ clear as a _bell,_ pun intended. He was as much endeared as he was jealous.

" ... _Damn, dude,_ " was all he said on the matter before busying himself with his lipstick drawer. He pulled out his own favorite alongside a brand new burgundy shade, wordlessly breaking the safety seal and tossing the plastic.

" It's all yours. Now look. "

Folding his secondary elbows over the surface of his vanity, he joined Alastor at the mirror and twisted the cap. " Ya can go for whateve' shape ya want. Flat, pointed bow, rounded bow, a shape shorter than ya natural smile that looks like ya got a permanent pout. I like ta call that one th' Betty Boop... "

He flashed his eyes over as he racked his thoughts. " Pointed bow prolly best fa a big smile. They'd round out on they own with ya stretch, " he explained before beginning to draw out the shape on his own lips.

Alastor

Alastor cleared his throat with a rumble of static and winked at Angel. "Still convincing, I hope." Of course it was still convincing. He'd heard himself.

He'd wondered how he was going to make it look good with a smile—he always had trouble with that part. *Pointed* bow. Made sense. He watched closely as Angel demonstrated.

Angel

Angel rolled his eyes. All eight of them. " Yeah-yeah, _that's_ the word. _Convincin' ~_ " He snickered with a wink of his own and made a couple faces in the mirror.

" Yeah, pointed bow'll do it. Don't be afraid ta exaggerate some. It ain't gonna look as ridiculous as ya think it will so long as ya own it. If it ain't feelin right, ya can always take some edge off with a claw. No 'arm done. "

He then rested his chin in his palm to watch him in the mirror. " _Go fa it ~_ "

Alastor

He watched until Angel was done—even copying Angel's hand motions with his own, tracing his tube of lipstick in the air—and then he said, "Got it." He sat back and made a twirling gesture with one finger. "Turn around. No facing me and no facing any mirrors facing me."

Angel

" What- " He rose a brow sky-high. " _Seriously?_ C'mon, man, it's not like ya _strippin'_ in 'ere. " Nonetheless, he obliged with a turn to his bed and a dramatic drop of his face into a pillow before giving Alastor a sextuple thumbs up.

Alastor

Lightly, Alastor said, "Everyone's entitled to their quirks. This one's mine." He waited until Angel was flopped before turning back to the mirror and pursing his lips.

He looked so *tired* when he wasn't smiling. The eye makeup really didn't do anything to hide that. He tried to focus on his lips instead of his eyes, copied the motion Angel had done, and examined the results. It took him a few tries to get an outline that looked alright when he smiled, and then he filled it in. Not bad, he thought. Made his fangs stand out more.

"All right. You can come inspect the results." Alastor glanced at Angel, face down in a pillow, and added, "If you haven't smothered yourself."

Angel

Angel twisted back around, a vague pile of pink striped limbs promptly realigning into a comfortably casual lounge.

" _Hey ~ !_ Not BAD, Mista _Twelve_ Times ~ ! " he complimented with a snap of his fingers, " That's gonna getcha e'rythin' I got left, uh-kay ~ ? "

Folding his arms behind him, he got up and leaned about Alastor on all sides to appreciate all angles of his ( for the most part ) work.

" ... ... Next time ya do anythin' like this, take me wit' ya, ah? "

Alastor

"Even without the skirt?" He'd put the Southern belle voice back on. "Well, bless your heart! Aren't you the generous one?"

He stolidly endured the scrutiny—this was the least pleasant part of the whole process, *the scrutiny.* "It's not something I do often, remember—I don't get much out of it. But if a reasonable opportunity comes up, I'll keep you in mind."

Angel

Angel stepped back with a sheepish laugh, test-stroked hand over his mouth. " Fine, fine, I won't put ya through anythin' else. Ya can 'ave summa my venison wheneva ya want. Youse a good sport ~ "

His many arms then made quick work of cleaning up his vanity. The head could go away later.

" Here, ya can take these, too, " he said with an offer of the rest of the makeup wipes, " Fa after dinner. An' any other time ya feel like freshenin' up. They _do_ work _wonders_ on _blood ~_ "

Alastor

"Do they! How handy." Those were going in... nope, his pockets were currently occupied, that was where he was stowing the glut of spare bow ties he'd suddenly acquired. He dropped the makeup wipes through a little portal, they could hang out in another dimension for now.

Angel

The corners of his eyes rounded wide at the sudden sight. " Didja just...? " Angel vaguely gestured towards the floor, still in the midst of processing what he just saw. " Give my shit ta HENTAI? He even HAVE a face? "

Alastor

Alastor laughed. "I'm sure he'd find some use for them!" He got to his feet; they were about done here, weren't they? "But, no! I've got more than one little dimension I can open up. That one happens to be—well—more or less my travel trunk, I suppose. It has too much in it for me to call it a handbag!" He opened up another small portal and fished out a saxophone. "This wouldn't fit in your average clutch, would it?"

Angel

Angel snorted. Of all the nefarious uses he could've been seeing of his power, he had to witness the storage unit. " Ahh I getcha I getcha ~ " he said as he pulled a pistol from his fluff and fussed with the magazine, " It ain't no entire fuckin', _dimension,_ but pretty damn close. I can fit a _lotta_ shit in 'ere ~ Once shoplifted an entire Christmas dinner! " He then put it away and looked at the portal, a curiously conniving smile stretching his face. Without much thought, he picked up the head, gave it a toss, and dropped to peer into the portal like a wishing well. " ... _Oh shit, it's actually GONE!_ " he exclaimed, eyes sparkling in amusement before his experiment.

Alastor

"Really! Just in your fur, or is there some sort of magic—Wait *don't—*!"

He tried to seal up the portal. It was slightly too slow to keep the head from falling in. He stared aghast at the point where the portal had been, then glowered at Angel. "You don't see me chucking half-thawed meat into *your* wardrobe!" He opened a smaller portal again on Angel's vanity, leaned over to peer in, then played an annoyed buzz as he sealed up the portal and opened a new one in midair just above eye-level so he could reach up into it from below. "If I have to take everything out to clean it, you're helping."

Angel

" I like ta call it _AbracaBIMBO-!_ " The spider erupted into a flurry of giggles and raspberries, arms clasping his stomach as he rolled on the ground. " I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I wasn't thinkin'! I just! 'AD TA TRY IT! " Swiping his tears, he looked up into the portal and sprung up. " Wait, that leads t' ya closet?? I'LL GET IT! " Angel then shoved his head and primary arms into the space and began fishing for leverage to pull himself through.

Alastor

Alastor grabbed Angel's shoulders to jerk his head down out of the portal, but the portal wasn't quite high enough and Alastor wasn't quite tall enough to keep Angel's arms out of it. "Either you remove your arms now, or I fish them out in an hour so the doctors can try to reattach them to your stumps. Your choice." The portal narrowed threateningly.

Angel

" What's the big _secret_? " he echoed into the void before popping his head out, " Ya said you'd make me help ya _clean!_ What's the big idea wit' not lettin' me sneak a peek _now ~ ?_ " Angel almost whined. Singular ( and he presumed inadvertently _punk_ ) as the Radio Demon's fashion sense _seemed_ to be, if he kept a skirt in there, the curiosity surrounding whatever else he could he stowing into an endless void all but _killed him._

Alastor

"And if you tell an acquaintance he'll help you clean your room, does that mean you'll hand him items and tell him where to put them, or does it mean you'll give him *carte blanche* to pull open all your drawers and paw around in them?" The portal sealed shut and reappeared on the other side of the room; the lights dimmed briefly as Alastor called up one of his shadows to dig around for the head instead. Apparently it wasn't safe to keep it within arm's reach (or throwing distance) of Angel.

Angel

" _Cart lunch-?_ " His brow tweaked but his eyes rolled shortly after. He's got to be the cagiest person he ever met. " Alright, alright, _jeeze,_ " he groaned as he folded both sets of arms, " So if I get outta the _Acquaintance Zone, **then**_ could I see ya closet? " Angel posed the question with air quotes, resigning himself to the fact that he'd either have to start controlling his second nature assholery, or make apologizing to him a habit. Neither sounded fun, but the latter sounded painful. Much _more_ painful.

Alastor

"*Carte blanche.* Permission." Alastor considered the question for a long moment. "No."

The shadow pulled out the head. With a gesture from Alastor, it threw it down on the bed. "What did it land on?"

The shadow half pulled out a wire laundry basket full of books (which now also contained the face wipes). Several disembodied voices muttered disapproval as Alastor facepalmed.

And then immediately un-facepalmed to make sure he hadn't smeared any makeup on his glove.

Angel

Narrowed eyes and pursed pout, Angel merely watched the head land. It wouldn't have been the grossest thing on his sheets. He'd start caring again if Fat Nuggets woke up and started nosing it.

" What? I get blood on ya diaries? " he teased, " Ya got a whole fuckin' secret dimension in there. Why don'tcha keep books in a, _I dunno, **bookshelf**_ instead a a _laundry basket?_ "

He was one to talk, having repurposed every possible thing in his room as a hanger.

Alastor

Alastor gestured demonstratively at the shadow, which pulled the top book out of the basket: a massive tome bound in black hide, held closed with three locks, and sporting an eyeball on the cover that looked alarming like one of Alastor's. The eyeball blinked and rolled around until it fixed on Alastor and Angel. "*Yes,* actually." Alastor gesture dismissively; the shadow dropped the book in the basket again and shoved it back into its separate dimension. "Because bookcases are harder to haul in and out of a small portal than baskets and boxes."

Angel

Angel blinked intermittently. He was running out of feet to eat. " ... Took ya mo'e fa a talker than a writer, " he commented dryly, eyes gluing to the floor as he pondered just how much of a _jerk_ he could be even when he wasn't actively _trying._ He drummed his fingers over his arm. _Questions, apologies, questions, apologies._ He was beginning to tire _himself_ out as he spaced and spiraled into his lack of grace. He couldn't hear a thing for a hot second.

Alastor

"I am. But talk is temporary, and some things need to be recorded. Recipes, rituals, messages..." Had Alastor managed to shame Angel? Give him a moment to bask in the awkwardness. Ah yes, this was where he was at home: making people uncomfortable.

Then he broke the silence. "Lucky for you, that particular book happened to be the only one in the basket that *likes* blood."

Angel

" ... 'Scuse th' FUCK outta me: _what?_ " He was conflicted as to whether he was more relieved or _disturbed._ Now his brain isn't going to be able to rid itself of the thought of certain inanimate objects _also_ enjoying his pain for a good while. " Ya feed ya feelin's _blood?_ " A second too late he realized he was stating the obvious.

Alastor

"Not *often,* no; but it helps keep its skin supple and rejuvenates some of the wards running inside." He shrugged, like this was a totally normal and not at all weird thing to say about a book.

Angel

" Wa'ds like- _oh,_ " he pieced. Literal bloodbaths in the spa were no secret. That much made sense to him. " So, uh... welcome? " Angel smacked on a wide, hopeful grin that left his eyes.

Alastor

"Ha! No, you're not winning points for this. Consider yourself lucky it wasn't leaking and didn't land on something more delicate." He gestured toward the door. "Now, before we have any more mishaps?"

Angel

" Ya can't blame _me,_ ya walkin' _Funhouse a' Horrors,_ " he scoffed with a strut towards the door. He opened it with a deep flourish, completely forgetting about the rotting head in his bed. " Afte' you. "

Alastor

"I can, I should, and I will."

Was Angel just going to leave that there? Well, if he'd forgotten about it, far be it for Alastor to remind him. He swept out the door past Angel, pulling his belle voice on again to say, "Such a gentleman!"

Angel

Chuckling, Angel canted his head to watch the demon walk out before turning back to his room.

" Be good, Nuggsie! I'll feed ya afte'- _oh fuck._ "

With about the same amount of thought as before, Angel swept the head out the window with a calculated rond de jambe before taking after Alastor.

Alastor

And off to get his hard-earned sausage.

#chat log #sluttyspiderpolkacock

10 notes · View notes

thebestworstidea · 4 years

Text

The Green Knight’s Lady

Sequel fic to “The Witch and the Green Knight” (on Ao3)

Chapter 1: In which Rowan has Unexpected House Guests

>-<>-< ——————-<>——————- >-<>-<

Chapter 2: In Which They Try to Figure Out What the Hell is Going On

>-<>-< ——————-<>——————- >-<>-<

Remus was familiar enough with the Baker’s house that he brought a chair so the smaller fae could sit in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room and watch Rowan suspiciously.

“So what do you like to eat?”

“Meat.”

“...” Rowan pinched the bridge of her nose, stopping herself from being exceptionally sarcastic. If she let herself get much more catty she’d have to sit down and eat mice with him. “Raw or cooked?”

“What?”

“It’s just that if you want it raw, it will probably be cold. I could get it warm-ish, but it would probably be a little cooked by that point.” she had her head in the fridge. “We’ve got some chicken, and some beef. We might have venison or mutton in the freezer in the basement, but you know, freezer. Basement.” She closed the door. “How hungry are you?”

“I’m really hungry, little tree.” Remus said making eyes at her. “I’d like that beef.”

“You’d like that entire roast.” she retorted. “It’s something we have in common.” Rowan sneezed, and rubbed her nose on the back of her hand, before heading to the sink and washing her hands thoroughly, throwing occasional looks over her shoulder. Wiping her heads she hit the button on the kettle. “Let’s start with tea.” Standing in front of her jars, she ran her fingers back and forth over them, plucking a few, and setting them on the counter where they could be seen, a square of white cloth laid out on a far-too fancy saucer next to a plain teapot. “Something simple.” Rowan hummed under her breath, and measured out pale tea leaves, lemon peel and the barest pinch of lavender, knotting the cloth up, and pouring the water into the pot, swirling it a moment before dropping the bundle in. She put the jars away, and picked out a pretty teacup with yellow roses on it and a matching saucer, then two mugs, one with a stylized face made out of leaves on it, and the other a gradient rainbow.

“This is awkward…” she realized. “I’m not going to try to get you into the kitchen, but I’m sure you’re going to want to watch me cook; so I can’t get you to sit in the dining room.” She flapped this thought away with a hand, actual blood pact aside, ‘Danger Noodle’ had no reason to trust her, so the lack of it could hardly hurt her. Well, her feelings at least. “Hey, stinkbug, you know what a tv tray looks like?”

“No.”

“Little folding table, I think there’s one in the corner of the dining room, can you grab it?” As he stepped off to look for it, she adjusted her shawl and sighed. “No food offered to you in this house carries obligation.”

“You can’t make that claim for the other mortals here.”

“I sure as sugar honey iced tea can. At least for my family. Don’t you have things in common with your family?”

He frowned, brow furrowing slightly. It would have been more intimidating on an adult’s face.

“Nothing significant comes to mind.”

“It’s like a tea tray on stilts!” Remus said brightly, returning through the other door into the kitchen. He set it down in reach of the young fae, and Rowan brought over the tea cup and one of the mugs, pouring them full, before returning to fill the last one.

“Somehow I think you could use a great deal of sweetening.” she said cheekily.

“I want honey.” Clearly he could see it, though if he wanted to get it himself he’d have to step into the cast-iron filled kitchen.

“Well you’re not getting it.” her nerves were buzzing. She was just going to spend the next however long she lived in a state of repressed hysteria. This entire situation was ridiculous but she pushed forward, putting the sugar bowl on the tv tray along with a silver spoon.“The compost heap doesn’t even get honey, and you’ve been alive for like, less than twenty four hours by my count.” she didn’t mention his physical state. “Oh wait…”

There was a cake stand on the counter, and she lifted it up, and pulled out a cupcake, setting it on a napkin and putting it in front of him. “Happy birthday, Danger Noodle.”

The expression of warring confusion, annoyance and ‘oh gosh a cupcake’ was well worth it, in her opinion.

“Can I have one?”

“Yes- no wait.” She walked towards Remus with intent. “I am not letting you be a biohazard in my eating area.”

“It’s perfectly clean mess.” Remus held up his hands wardingly.

“Yeah, well, no.” She grabbed him by the back of the collar and hauled him away.

“What am I supposed to do?” demanded ‘Danger Noodle’

“Drink your tea and don’t hurt anything.”

“No promises.”

>-<>-<

The laundry room was next to the downstairs bathroom, and Rowan pulled Remus in, digging in a basket in the corner.

“Is this weird for you at all? I mean him being a kid.” she asked quietly.

“Nah, not really.” Remus shrugged. “It’s not going to last. It’s not like he’s a baby or anything. Besides, I’ve always been older than him.”

“What?”

“Yeah, not a lot but-” he made measuring gestures with his hands. “Ten years? Something like that? That kind of gap isn’t even really weird for mortals, right? I mean, it looked different, I started out smaller.”

“It’s a little creepy.”

“Is it?” He stopped. “Oh shade and sorrow, where did you get those dirty thoughts?” Giggling, Remus tweaked her ear and she swatted at him. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

“Oh thank you for that visual, that’s great.”

“I may go back down a bit, anyway.”

It took Rowan a moment to parse out what that meant.

“You’d better stay a certain amount big, he’s going to need protection.”

“Probably just a few years. Getting smaller is harder than getting bigger.” he scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Wouldn’t want to be creepy accidentally. Let me know if I stray closer?”

“Sure.” She rested against the wall for a moment. “I’d feel weird if you were like… a kid or a teenager too. Not creepy-weird, just weird. Humans only age in one direction.”

“Boring!”

“Yep, that’s us.” Rowan shook out a t-shirt, then tossed it on top of the pants she’d picked out. “Here, these are my longest jeans, they should fit you okay.” She handed him the pile, and shoved him towards the bathroom. “I think you’ll feel better clean. I mean, it’s not your thing, but still. You can use my soap and shampoo, I think you’ll know which ones they are.”

“Do I gotta?”

“You absolutely gotta. Things will be fine for ten minutes while you shower.” As much as she loved him, she wanted to reduce how much clean up she was going to have to do. There was a beat of silence and she listened to the house. Upstairs she could hear the rattle of her younger brother’s snore, but no footsteps. Downstairs, nothing but her breathing, no- she could hear Remus and the faint sound of the water heater beneath them.

“I can hear him. It’s fine.” Remus murmured.

“It is so far from fine I don’t think I’d be able to see it on a clear day.” Rowan retorted, squeezing her eyes shut and pressing her hands over them. “I just… I told him he needed sweetening and told him he couldn’t have honey like he was a child and gave him a cupcake, and he’s- he was-” swallowing she grimaced. “I called him ‘Danger Noodle’. To his face.”

Remus laughed at her, but gently, and bonked their foreheads together again.

“I think it’s cute.”

“You would.” she mumbled sourly. “He really trusts you.”

“It’s not polite to talk about it.” he was smiling.

“When has that ever bothered you?”

“I know what manners are for.” he retorted, not sounding offended at all. “You know, when I told you my name, it was so you could call me by it.” He dragged his fingers through her bangs. She relaxed, just a little bit. “It’s what people call me. Not that I don’t like your nicknames.”

“Am I gonna stop being a little tree?” she asked, steering him towards the shower.

“Maybe if you get bigger.” He kissed her forehead again and started to get naked. Rowan left the room, shutting the bathroom door behind herself and taking a few more deep breaths.

Then she headed back to the kitchen, her tea would be cool enough to drink.

She caught ‘Danger Noodle’ with fingers in his mouth, apparently licking off frosting, since the cupcake was gone completely.

They stared at each other. Rowan did her best not to get into a staring contest, or fall back asleep.

“So … ‘Danger Noodle’ is that really what you’re sticking with?” he asked

“You going to give me something better?” She challenged. “It is kind of a mouthful, though. Nope Rope? Spicy Spaghetti? Caution Ramen? Murder Spugurder? Tube Dude? Scale Puppy?”

He looked quietly appalled.

“I’ll take the first one.”

“I thought you might.”

“You’re obnoxious.”

“I’m nicer when I’ve had enough sleep. I think.”

“I’m not.”

She couldn’t help it, she gave a snort of laughter, which didn’t make him look any happier.

“D.N. then,.” Rowan said thoughtfully. He narrowed his eyes at her. And she’d so carefully not said ‘for short’

“Well, that’s an improvement.”

She took a sip from her mug and pulled the roast out of the fridge. Her hand automatically went to the knife block, then pulled back. Treating it like an allergy, she should reduce contact with steel. Rowan began rummaging in the kitchen drawers.

“Is it weird for you?” she asked, not looking at him “I may be small again after I die, but I won’t remember being an adult.”

“I am just barely sure that this is not a nightmare.”

Her search produced a ceramic knife her mother had gotten after Remus had started visiting.

“I am right there with you.” she sighed expressively. “No salt, no steel.” Rowan sang under her breath as she sliced the meat into thin strips, and moved on to an onion, tossing it into a copper pan with a large pat of butter. “I’m going to have to learn to cook again-” she continued in singsong “As my green friend is not a good judge of what is safe to feed a fae…”

“I see his eating habits haven’t changed.”

“I’ll be fair, I’ve never seen him eating roadkill.” She offered.

“He’d much rather kill something himself.”

“He’s blood thirsty like that.” There was a pause, and she sipped her tea without turning around, as the idea that her back was to an unfamiliar person, in the middle of the night itched at the back of her mind. “You’ve known each other for a long time.”

“Do you really want to have a conversation with me?”

Rowan’s shoulders went up then down, and she kept stirring the onions.

“I don’t see why I shouldn’t try.”

“Pretending won’t make me any better.”

“No, that’s all on you. Would you like more tea?”

>-<>-<

Fortunately for their awkward conversation, Remus came back into the kitchen then, a silver chain disappearing under the collar of the t-shirt, hair wet, and moisture sticking to his skin. Rowan was not completely sure that he wasn’t a lighter shade- but she had seen him wash before, so that was probably in her head.

“I feel naked and not in a fun way.” he pouted. “Do I get a cupcake now?”

“But you smell better, and I’d be willing to lend you a blanket.” She tweaked his nose and did give him a cupcake. “I’ll put the meat in and you’ll have food in a minute.”

The sound of frying meat covered up the quiet conversation they had behind her, and she focused on it.

“Real table time.” She interrupted. “Dining room’s right behind you.”

It was too late for a midnight snack, and too early for breakfast, but she filled three bowls with the meat and vegetable mix, ignoring the voice in the back of her head that insisted she should make rice, or at least some noodles to go with it, she set the bowls out in a row, and let her guests pick whichever they pleased, only sitting down and taking the last one one they had. The meat was more rare than she’d prefer in a fryup, but compromise. She’d refilled her cup twice and Remus’s once as well before she spoke again.

“How is this even possible?”

“Now you ask.” scoffed the young fae.

“Do you know?”

He didn’t answer, eyes flicking to the side to avoid meeting her gaze, but it looked more like a ‘no’ than a ‘not telling’. She poked Remus with her foot under the table, getting his attention, and after a moment, sliding the rest of her serving over to him.

“Okay, I need you to walk me through what happened.”

“Uh…” He looked lost.

‘Danger Noodle’ sat back a bit in his chair so he could see them both better.

“Just, some idea. We found his bones, and then...”

“Not a creepy conversation to be sitting in on at all.” the young fae hissed between his teeth, cleaning his nails.

“Shut up, Danger Noodle.” He made a very teenagerish face at her. She sneered back.“And then?”

“I uh… don’t remember much for a while?” Remus admitted “So I don’t know how long I was there. But eventually, I..” his eyes flashed over to the other fae, then returned to Rowan. “I picked them up and gathered them into the bag you made me. And then I wormed my way out of the grove and I left.” He looked over at the young fae and took a deep breath. “So, legend is they were made straight out of shadows in the darkest part of the forest. So I went there. I’m not sure what I was thinking, that if they were born there, that would be the best place to rest. I just knew I didn’t want to leave the bones where we found ‘em, because it did feel… bad. Angry. And keeping the bones in my home would be a little weird even for me.”

“Just a little.” Rowan agreed.

“But that’s not much by way of directions.”

“The forest is a fae.” Interjected ‘Danger Noodle’ They both looked at him. “My brother calls it ‘mother’.”

“And you?” Rowan asked.

He gave a surprisingly honest looking shrug and rubbed the back of his neck, then his temples. “Something is there.”

“And I found a nice hollow tree to put them in.” Remus offered.

“Which I’m sure sounds cozy to a summer.”

“It does! Not that one though.” Remus blinked, slowly and rocked back and forth. “Then, I sat down, I was only going to sit down for a minute, only it was dark, and like… like finding the first patch of horfrost. So I just stayed sat.”

“Did you say anything? Think anything?”

“I don’t think I said anything. I thought about dying of exposure, and that elk skeleton I saw last summer.” He looked away from Rowan and smiled at the little fae “Thought about you.”

He raised his eyebrows, but didn’t respond.

“Then… I dunno. I think I fell asleep. I don’t remember anything. But then I woke up and heard swearing.” he gestured at ‘Danger Noodle’. “The bones were gone, and he was there instead.”

“And you just knew who he was?”

“I will always know.” Remus said with enough feeling he embarrassed both Rowan and the fae child.

“So nothing we did on purpose.”

“I was brought back to life by accident?” he sounded almost offended by the concept.

“Oh somebody did it.” Rowan retorted. “It just wasn’t us.” It didn’t taste true, there was like a rattle of thought in the back of her mind. “It wasn’t just us.” she added, and shivered. “I remember when we were looking I’d get these strange feelings; nudges. Just different enough from how I normally find things that they didn’t seem like the same thing. I usually find things by seeing something, or feeling a tug in the right direction, and it was like that but it was like… someone pulling on a string that was tied to something that pulled me, the pictures I saw looked like words feel.”

“Witch magic.”

“I always thought of it more as psychic phenomenon, but-” She laced her fingers together. “I don’t know how to separate them.” Rowan pulled her shawl around herself more tightly. “Somehow… I feel I should apologize.” Rowan said honestly.

“What for?”

“My admittedly small part in your resurrection.”

“Don’t.” He folded his hands and frowned. “I was… present. In the bones. I couldn’t leave.” He looked at his hands and scowled again. “A poetic punishment for past misdeeds, I suppose. And I can feel magic. I would not be here, even in this form, if it weren’t for you. I hate it, but I owe you a debt, Rowan.”

“That’s why you agreed.” She said quietly.

“Whatever I owe you doesn’t preclude me killing you if you push it.” his eyes widened suddenly as if noticing something. “... you didn’t include yourself in your bargain. You said ‘my family or guests in my home’.”

Rowan just smiled at him.

“That took even less time than I thought it would.”

“Nothing is keeping me from killing you.” he sounded almost confused.

“Well. You are a guest in my home.” she offered. “And you owe me. So there’s that for now.”

“You’re very trusting.”

Rowan laughed.

“That’s not a new observation.” Her head felt split in two by a sudden yawn. “I feel like I’m out of thinking for now.” Rowan squinted at her guests. “Let me offer you a bed; I mean, you could sleep in mine, but I’m not giving it up, so the mess gets the middle.” she nodded at Remus. “So there’s the guest rooooo-okay not the guest room, that’s got an iron bedframe. So the loft, which is at least private.”

>-<>-<

The house only technically had three floors, the third being more of a half floor that was mostly one large room with storage closets lining the eves. Lazy storage left a handful of boxes not actually getting where they belonged, boxes stacked on the made up king bed, which Rowan hurriedly moved. The wind could be heard through the roof, but there were only two windows, round ones, one that faced the road, the other facing the forest. Both had small iron bells hung on the upper frame, and fans sitting beneath them. Bookshelves in various states of dilapidation were filled with books haphazardly, and there was a large stack of white comic book boxes. A standing rack was full of coats and old costumes, only some of which were in garment bags. A space heater stood at the foot of the bed.

“If you want to stay here, it will be mostly private,” Rowan offered. “If you need more blankets, there’s a blanket chest outside the upstairs bathroom.”

“Thanks little tree.” Remus nodded. “I shouldn’t be tired, since I just woke up but… winter I guess.”

“One last request?” Rowan asked nervously, standing at the head of the stairs. “I’d like to broach the subject with my family myself? So uhm. Could you wait until I come get you tomorrow?”

“Are you trying to lock me in a tower?”

Remus seemed to think that was a joke, so Rowan took it as one.

“Don’t be silly. There aren’t any towers available. Or big enough locks.”

#the witch and the green knight #willow is writing #AU AU

11 notes · View notes

thetakenpokemon · 4 years

Text

Act 2 - The Outside World

[Time: Present Day] [PoV: Yinomi]

Although it has only been a day since we’ve left the isle, I already feel myself being in high spirits. Although a change of scenery is incredibly refreshing, the biggest reason...is the food.

Currently the three of us are gathered around a firepit we made within a clearing. The freshly killed and cleaned carcass of a Sawsbuck lays speared over it with the use of several sharpened branches, cooked to perfection - with my own fire I might add.

We do have plenty of food on the isle. There’s an abundance of trees that hold a variety of fruits, countless vegetables and root plants, and other miscellaneous edible plants and herbs. For those who require meat in their diet, there’s quite a bit of fish from the surrounding ocean. Wild game or any other meat? That is something we don’t have on the isle.

So when we found a Feral Sawsbuck while making our way to the town, it was only natural that the first thing in my and Miyako’s mind was to hunt it. Miyako killed it before it ever had the chance to react, ending its life with a swift slash to its throat after a giant leap.

Although I would never admit this in the open, I must agree that one thing that Miyako has over me is her impressive speed.

My fangs dig into the leg of the venison, uncaring about the grease that’s dripping down my chin. I can find a stream to wash myself later. The biggest priority right now is to enjoy this very rare delicacy~

Across the firepit I see Miyako currently tearing into her own piece, already getting down to the bone. With a loud gulp she turns to Iniko - said Medicham who is silently sitting to the side.

“Hey, want some?” The Lopunny asks, wiping her face with an arm before gesturing to the meat in the center.

Iniko doesn’t respond verbally, but instead gives Miyako a deadpan look before gesturing to her own face with a hand - or more specifically, her lack of mouth.

Miyako smiles awkwardly. “Oh yeah, right...”

So much for being in high spirits... I roll my eyes at her cluelessness. Although most cases I would add a remark, my mouth is currently full.

“It’s okay, Miyako.” Iniko sighs. “Regardless, I already got my fill from the previous stream we found. Its energies should last for the rest of the trek.”

“I still keep forgetting that you ‘eat’ by absorbing energies from running water.” Miyako muses as she takes another bite into the venison, before continuing speaking with her mouth full. “Do you ever miss normal food?”

Swallowing my bite, I give the Lopunny a glare. “You have the decency of a child, Miyako. Speak only when you don’t have food in your mouth.”

In response, the Lopunny gives me the middle finger before chewing slowly with her mouth open, looking me dead in the eyes.

I let out a growl at this, a puff of purple fire escaping from the large maw hanging behind me.

“It’s not any running water that I get my energy from!” Iniko speaks up hastily, trying to divert the subject back in order to stop the forming feud. “It has to be something like a stream or river, however the most fulfilling is from the ocean itself.” She laughs awkwardly. “And even though I have thought about it, I only miss normal food...occasionally. But absorbing energy from water is a fairly different thing compared to standard eating, and in some cases I’d say it’s much more satisfying and filling.”

Her attempt at drawing our attention away from each other ended up succeeding - mostly at least, since my anger towards Miyako has died down to something more along the lines of simple irritation.

“Huh, that’s pretty cool, actually.” Miyako comments, thankfully saying said thing after swallowing her bite of food. “But I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I’d ever give up the chance of eating meat! It’s just so damn good~”

I couldn’t resist the opportunity. “Even though you never ate meat before you became a Bearer?” I point out with a smirk.

She glares at me. “Hey, just because my biology was different before, it doesn’t make it any less different now.” Her free clawed hand clenches. “You saying that my opinions mean less due to the fact that I was-”

“Why don’t you both finish eating so we can be on our way sooner?” Iniko speaks up in a serious tone before giving me a glare. “Because right now we are kinda using up precious time.”

“Hmph, very well.” I snort before resuming my feasting.

Miyako holds her glare on me, but ultimately decides to drop the subject as well. “Sure, whatever...”

---

After finishing our meal and cleaning ourselves up, we’ve resumed our travelling and actually made very good progress towards the town. As of currently the forest we’re in is already thinning, thus meaning that we’re getting close.

“So Richard Dick is located just outside this forest?” Miyako asks to no one in particular, her arms crossed behind her head.

“It’s...called Richmond.” Iniko slowly replies, trying to contain her own laughter. “And yes. Outside the forest is nothing but grasslands along with a big river. Richmond is built beside said river, which I assume is where they get a good source of their food. The place is fairly hilly as well, but we should be able to see the place the moment we step out of the woods.”

I’m currently just staring at Miyako. To confuse ‘Richmond’ with ‘Richard Dick’... Feeling the energies coming from her, I knew it was intentional, so the only reason I can think of is...

She looks at me, a smirk quite plain on her face.

Yeah, she’s definitely doing this to annoy me. What makes it worse is the fact that she’s succeeding.

“Speaking of which, we’re very close!” Iniko speaks up, drawing my attention away from the infuriating dragon rabbit and towards the path in front of us.

As the Medicham said, the forest ahead seems to stop short. After we pass through, the scenery ahead of us changes drastically.

Before my eyes are nothing but rolling hills of green. The landscape is covered all over with deep emerald blades of grass, and scattered among the earth are several late-blooming flowers. The sky is relatively clear, leaving a rich blue to properly compliment the scene, making it almost seem like a work of art.

This...is definitely nothing like our home isle, where it’s nothing but forest.

“Whoa...” Miyako says in awe, voicing my own thoughts as well.

“That...truly is quite a sight.” Iniko agrees breathlessly.

Seeing that this alone is enough to make all of us catch our breath? I seriously need to speak with Xiomara once we return. We really are missing out on a lot of things by staying on that isle for so long, I’m sure that the others would be more than happy to see something as simple yet beautiful as this.

“And there it is!” Iniko shouts, pointing into the distance with a finger. “The town is just ahead!”

Having my gaze follow the direction she’s gesturing, I do indeed see several buildings just poking out from the hills.

“Last one there has to volunteer to be part of Seikani’s next experiment!” Miyako laughs before dashing towards the town, each bound of her feet causing earth to spray into the air as her form propels itself across the hills, not unlike that of a living bullet.

“Miyako-” Iniko starts to shout before sighing. “Great... Hopefully she won’t cause too much of a problem before we get there.”

I instead grind my teeth together. “I swear... If she causes any sort of trouble before we arrive, I will make her regret it.”

Iniko looks at me nervously. “Uh, well...Hopefully it won’t come to that, let’s hurry and catch up to her!” She says hastily before running after the Lopunny.

With a growl I follow suit, images of me thrashing Miyako flashing in my mind.

---

It took us a good several minutes before we reached the town. Besides my violent thoughts involving Miyako, the first thing that came to my mind is to say that it looks rather...quaint.

Thatched roofs, walls made of wood boards or logs, smooth dirt roads... It...definitely reminds me of the buildings I used to live in before I became a Bearer of Reshiram’s Power. The only difference in this town though are the lampposts scattered around the place, each of them housing a glass jar with an unlit candle inside.

Placed around the square of the town are various stalls, Pokemon of all shapes and sizes selling food and supplies that you’d only find in a place like this. Seeing that this is a small town in the middle of nowhere, I quite doubt that they actually use any normal form of currency.

...Not that we have any to begin with. Probably something we need to discuss with Orabelle and Zenoclio when they pop by for the next meeting.

Another thing I notice involving the various townfolk is that...well, they’re staring at us.

“I see Miyako.” Iniko whispers to me, gesturing to the side.

My gaze immediately turns to the direction, my face transforming into a scowl. Said expression quickly dissipates once I see what Miyako is doing.

Currently she’s sitting on a wooden bench, surrounded by children. From my current distance I can’t tell what’s exactly going on, but from what I can assume? She’s...merely talking with them.

As the two of us approach her and get closer, we discover that she’s answering the various questions they’re asking her.

“-so you’re part Zekrom?! Do you have lightning powers?!” One of them eagerly asks her.

“Sure can! Watch!” She laughs before pinching two claws together, causing a blue spark of electricity to arc between the two appendages.

The collective young audience immediately let out a chorus of ‘Oohs’, ‘whoas’, and ‘wows’, completely enraptured by the simple display.

Noticing us approaching, Miyako dispels the energy before waving at us. “Ey, ‘bout time you both came here!” She turns to the children before gesturing to us. “And here they are~ These two are the sisters of mine that I told you about.”

One of them raises their hand before asking, “They’re your sisters? But they don’t look anything like you!”

“Sisters are merely something we call ourselves. We’re not directly related.” Iniko answers their question gently.

“Why do you call yourselves that?” Another child asks.

This time I speak up, albeit in a guarded tone. “That...is something we can answer for another time. Do your parents know that you’re speaking with strangers?”

Collectively they all start looking at each other nervously, but eventually one of them does speak up. “Yes...?”

Even without my Reshiram powers that allow me to detect deceit, I can fully tell that they’re lying due to their obviously guilty face and tone.

“I would best advise that you go to them, otherwise you will get in trouble.” I respond flatly.

Although there were a few scattered protests, a stern glare was enough for them to scatter.

“Killjoy.” Miyako complains before standing up from the bench.

“We’re on a mission, Miyako.” I growl at her. “There’s no time for this.”

“Hey, I was merely waiting for you guys.” She shoots back with her own glare. “Not to mention there’s no harm in talking with people. I mean, I interact with you guys all the time. It’s actually nice to talk with someone that’s new!” She turns to Iniko. “No offense, that is.” She turns to me. “In your case? Full offense.”

My eyes twitch.

“Can you both...not?” Iniko hisses angrily, visibly controlling her tone. “Like, not here? In public? Where everyone is watching?” She tilts her head both left and right, drawing our eyes to the surrounding townsfolk.

Who are staring at us...and also murmuring to themselves.

Taking a sharp breath, I let out a sigh. “...Understood.”

Miyako rubs the back of her head sheepishly. “Yeah yeah... Understood.”

“Good.” Iniko sighs, relieved. “Now I recommend going around and asking about the phenomenon. If you find anything of importance, come back here.”

“What if people asks questions in turn? Like about us?” Miyako speaks up.

Before I’m given the chance to say anything, Iniko quickly responds. “If they have questions? Feel free to answer. Obviously hiding our identity isn’t much of a priority here.” She brushes a lock of blue hair over her shoulder. “Not to mention it’d give the people here a chance to become more familiar with us, which should help us in gathering information.”

Miyako gives a thumbs up. “Gotcha~”

“So if there’s no other questions, let's split up?” She half asks half says, looking at the both of us.

“Yup~” The Lopunny chuckles before turning and walking away.

I merely nod and choose the opposite direction Miyako went, leaving Iniko behind to select her own path.

Interacting with the populace of the outside world, huh? This...is definitely gonna take some getting used to...

#yinomihattram #miyakoloprom #inikomedifini #plot

2 notes · View notes

fanfiction-inc · 4 years

Note

Your far cry 5 headcanons are too cute and are giving me life but as a bossy bitch I have to request- perhaps Jacob with a snarky, but loving, rough and tumble gal who has a thing for him but mainly just tries to convince him 'man, you need to start taking better care of yourself. Milk and broiled venison is not dinner.' :,>

Awe, love, you're a sweetie! I have tried my best and I apologize if this isn't exactly as you've imagined it. 😅

You've known each other for a while now, having been creatures of similar habits and surprisingly getting along.

He liked your 'take no shit' personality, finding it nice in this flock his brother has built.

He values your opinion, but he can't stand the snark you give him.

God does it get on his nerves.

Mocking the way he runs his camp, how he trains his soldiers.

At first it was all comical but now it just imply makes his head pulse.

But little does he know your comments, thought sometimes snide or rude, are meant to be helpful.

It's just how you are, after all.

And you're not pushing that aside for a sickly sweet smile and 'how's your day?' because that is way too out of character.

Yes, you may like him, but you won't stop how you are just to show it.

"I know you're a self-proclaimed predator, but fuck do you need to eat better. I mean got some potatos or shit. Meat isn't the only food group up in these damn mountains."

"Always gotta come here just to complain, don't you?"

He deemed this bickering over caring, and without looking at your expression, he couldn't tell how you felt.

Ignorance was bliss.

And he was ignorant as fuck when it came to your true motives.

It's hard to catch his attention without the roll of his eyes or the soft 'heh' following when he catches something humorous.

Your patience is wearing thin with the man, and even then, you like him more and more.

"I'm tellin' ya, Jake. Get your shit together. You're gonna get a fuckin' cold if you don't dress warmer."

It takes him longer and longer before someone has to explain it, has to point out just why you say the shit that you do, and then there's clarity.

"You need a shower. Smell like one of your damn wolves."

"Alright. I'll get one."

It's surprising when he finally agrees to what you say, and it's even more surprising when he wears that little grin that hides beneath the hairs of his beard.

Finally it gets to be just too weird, and you have to ask.

"Who told you?"

"One of my chosen. Funny how they pick up on shit like that when they can't mind their own damn business."

#far cry 5 #jacob seed #anon ask #lovely anon #thank you anon #fc5 headcanon

7 notes · View notes

blueboxesandtrafficcones · 4 years

Text

The Nuptial Necessity - Chapter 19

A 12xRose Human AU

Despite an unglamorous job description, Rose loves the work she does with The Thistle Foundation, a charity founded by her best friend’s great-uncle. It doesn’t hurt that her boss, her friend’s father, is easy on the eyes. With a great job, wonderful friends and a loving family, life couldn’t be better – except for having someone to share it with.

All of that is threatened, though, when the great-uncle dies – and sets a strange condition for his nephew to inherit, jeopardizing the Foundation and Rose’s future, sparking a chain of events that might just get her everything she dreamed of and more.

Chapters will be posted on Saturdays and Tuesdays. Many thanks to my beta, @stupidsatsuma

Rated: Explicit, for eventual smut

@doctorroseprompts

AO3 | Masterlist

—

Saturday (the morning after)

The blaring alarm startled Rose awake, and groaning, she swatted blindly at her bedside table until the noise stopped. Once again in peaceful silence she buried her face deeper into her pillow, pouting slightly at having been woken up. She’d been having the most marvelous dream; after the Gala, she’d persuaded Malcolm to come to bed with her, and they’d spent half the night making glorious love.

Rolling over at the sound of her door squeaking open, she became aware of several things at once; she was naked, she was sore in delicious places, and Malcolm was walking towards her carrying a tray loaded with breakfast and wearing a dressing gown.

“I hope you don’t mind, I thought we’d share breakfast in bed,” he murmured, stopping at the side of the bed, looking adorably flustered and shy given what they’d shared.

Wide awake now at the scent of bacon Rose nodded eagerly, pulling back the covers from the other side of the bed, accidentally flashing him in the process. “Oops,” she giggled, pulling the sheet up to cover her breasts; he didn’t look particularly offended, instead running his eyes over her like a starving man.

“Let’s eat,” was all he said, handing her the tray before moving to climb back into the bed.

“Erm-” When she nodded towards the dressing gown on the chair next to him he passed it over, and she gave an apologetic grin of thanks as she pulled it on while he got in.

“This looks lovely,” Rose observed, picking up one of the forks and diving in. “Smells good, too.”

“Thanks. On the weekends, I try to do a full fry-up – especially if Clara’s here. I’ve gotten away from it over the past few years- seemed a waste to do all this for myself- but… now that I’m not alone here, it might be time to resume it.”

Grinning, she nudged his foot with her own. “You can make me breakfast anytime.” Then, realizing what she was implying, she blushed and shoved a forkful of eggs in her mouth. He’s your husband, you shagged, don’t be so weird. She stopped chewing as it occurred to her that just because they’d been… intimate, that didn’t automatically make them a couple. Little conversation had occurred, other than him checking every so often that she was good with what they were doing. No declarations of love had happened, nothing to indicate anything had changed between them except they’d now seen each other naked and… done things to each other. Amazing things, granted, but…

She suddenly felt very exposed and vulnerable.

“So, what’s the plan?” she asked, nibbling on a piece of toast and drawing her dressing gown tighter around her with one hand.

He finished chewing, taking the time to set his fork down and have a mouthful of coffee before answering. “We fly out of Heathrow up to Inverness, and the estate driver will meet us there. Then it’s just roughly an hour’s drive north, and we’re there.”

“Sounds simple enough. How long’s the flight?”

“About an hour and a half- Graham’s picking us up at nine, and we should arrive a little after two. It’s part of why I made such a big breakfast- we’ll have lunch when we get there.”

Rose nodded in agreement, before biting her lip. “Um…”

“What?” Malcolm looked at her, concerned, and she tried to find the right way to phrase what she wanted to ask without offending him.

“Uh, do you- what would- any idea what the… menu will look like during our trip?” she asked nervously, pushing a runaway lock of hair behind her ear. “Will it be…” she bit back weird, trying to find an alternative- “traditionally Scottish?”

He stared at her for a long moment before his lips twitched. “No one’s going to try to force you to have haggis, if that’s your concern.”

“What about black pudding?”

“Nor that.” His smile broke free. “Fish, beef, lamb, venison… all possible, and perfectly normal. I didn’t think you were picky?”

“I’m not,” she said, slightly defensively, “but… there are certain things that just… Ugh.” She shivered, making a face. “And I don’t want to be rude, but it’s easier if I know going in.”

Leaning forward, Malcolm patted her leg. “Relax. I’m sure it will be fine. Besides, I already called ahead and told our chef, Ianto, that we’d like fish and chips for lunch and lamb chops for dinner. How’s that sound?”

“Brilliant,” Rose relaxed, thoroughly distracted by his hand on her leg; even through the sheet she could feel the warmth, and it was heating her blood. “Sorry, I just- I’m nervous,” she confided in a rush. “I want them to like me, and accept me, and I don’t want to embarrass you…”

“They will,” he said confidently, rubbing her thigh. “They’ll love you, trust me. How could they not? And it’s far more likely that I will embarrass you.”

“True. Thanks.”

She just hoped he was right.

They settled into their seats, Rose still arguing with him. “Are you sure you don’t want the window?”

He sighed, counted silently to ten, then said, “I’m absolutely certain. I’ve got some paperwork to look over, and I want you to enjoy. Look out the window, watch the country fly by. I insist.”

“Fine.” She huffed, belting herself in and fluffing her hair before looking around. “You really didn’t need to book business class- it’s not even a two hour flight.”

“It’s not that expensive, and I wanted the extra room. Besides, you’re going to spend the next week getting called ‘my lady’ – might as well start with the star treatment, eh?”

She gave him a shy smile, making his heart flutter. “If you insist.”

“I do.” He wanted to lean forward and kiss her, but wasn’t sure she would accept it- things were weird, a low-simmering tension between them. When he’d woken they’d been spooned together, and it was heavenly, but he’d been nervous about how she would react when she woke up. He had no idea if she felt the same as he did, if this was the start of a real relationship, or if she’d just been bored and horny and he was the closest bloke. Based on all the evidence he suspected it was closer to the first than the second, but he didn’t know how close. The last thing he wanted was for her to wake up and say it was a mistake.

So he took the coward’s way out. She hadn’t seemed bothered by his rejoining her in bed, or sharing breakfast, but… that left a lot of room between where they seemed to be and where he wanted to be.

Because he wanted everything.

Over the past eight years of working together they’d taken a handful of business trips together. Typically Rose would make all the arrangements for that and he would let her lead, but for this, he’d handled everything himself, and felt an absurd sense of self-pride that things had gone well. The last thing he wanted was for their trip to get off to a rocky start.

Walking out through security, he spotted a lad with a sign reading Gallifrey and headed for it, wheeling their suitcases behind him as they approached.

“You Ross?”

“Lord Gallifrey?” The young man looked startled, bowing his head lower than necessary, and Malcolm hid a smile at his nervousness; it had been a good ten years since Wallace was well enough to travel back to Scotland, so this would be the first time the lad met the owner of the Estate he worked on. “An honor, my lord, may I take those?” Then he craned his neck around Malcolm, who glanced back to see Rose practically hiding behind him. “Er, Lady Gallifrey?”

“Hi,” Rose said sheepishly, wriggling her fingers in his direction as she came around to stand at Malcolm’s side. “I’m Rose.”

“Yes, my lady.” To his credit he didn’t bat an eye, keeping to the proper address, and Malcolm’s opinion of him soared. “If it pleases you…”

Malcolm passed over the rolling suitcases, keeping his ever-present backpack with him, noting out of the corner of his eye Rose kept her purse and carry-bag as well. It was a short walk to the car, and Malcolm found it upon himself to keep the idle chitchat going, the other two too nervous or uncomfortable to speak much.

Seeing the car he smiled, not bothering to tamp down his boyish joy. For many years, his sole reason for looking forward to inheriting the estate was this car- he’d learned to drive in it, and had always admired how cool and elegant it looked. He wasn’t a car man by any means, but this- this one he knew every inch of.

A canary-yellow Edwardian roadster, it had been lovingly restored several times by the family, and had been called Bessie for over fifty years. It was as much a part of the family as he was, at this point; moreso, he’d argue, as it never really left the Estate. He was sorry to see the top up, though it would be the more practical way to travel. I’ll have to take Rose out for a ride on the grounds with it down.

“Still running well?” he asked when Ross joined him at the bonnet, which he’d popped to take a look. “How often is she driven? Is the Silver Dawn still around?”

“Yes, my lord, beautifully. I tend to her everyday- I hope you find her to your satisfaction. Take her through the property two or three times a week. Same for the Silver Dawn. We have a modern Land Rover that’s used for more daily needs.”

Malcolm let the hood down, nodding. “So far, yes, I’m satisfied. We’ll see how she handles- she was old when I was young.”

Rose snorted, leaning on the side of the car. “Must be positively ancient, now, then,” she teased.

“Bite your tongue,” Malcolm rolled his eyes, returning to her and opening the door for her to enter. “I’m not that old. Still in the prime of life, me.”

She waited until he was situated next to her to respond. With a coy grin and a hand on his knee, she said, “Oh, I know,” in a terribly flirty voice.

No question- this would be an interesting trip.

Rose stared out the window, watching the farmland go by. She’d tried to listen as Malcolm peppered Ross with questions about how the Estate was doing and people he knew, but was almost instantly lost. It didn’t help that his accent had grown thicker almost immediately; it was normally strong, easy to tell he was a Scotsman, but now…

She liked it. A lot.

“What do you think of Scotland so far?” Malcolm asked, squeezing her hand and drawing her attention back to him.

“It’s beautiful,” she said honestly, giving him a bright smile. “What are all the golden fields?”

“It’s rapeseed. You make vegetable oil or protein meal out of it. You’ll find it all over Scotland- I believe we grow some as well, don’t we Ross?”

“Aye, my lord, we do,” Ross confirmed. “Is this your first trip to Scotland, my lady?”

Malcolm had to nudge her. Right, that’s me. I’ll never get used to this. “Uh, yes, it is. So far, I love it.”

“In just a little bit we’ll pass through some of the hills, and you may be in luck- I believe I spotted some heather on my trip down, which would be a treat. By the end of the week, it should be out in full force.”

“Can’t wait.”

“Rose, we’re here.”

“Mhmmm.” Blinking, she lifted her head from where it had apparently fallen on Malcolm’s shoulder to look out the window. “We are?”

“Well, almost,” he conceded, “we’re about a mile from the gates, but I didn’t want you to miss your first look.”

Yawning, she rolled her head around to stretch her neck. “Thanks.” Taking his proffered hand and linking their fingers together, she watched diligently out the window for any sign.

Only a minute or so later they came to a minor fork in the road, where it seemed the main road went left and a side road off to the right; a little cottage sat just behind the stone wall, which ended in pillars. No gate crossed the road, but it had a distinct private feel to it.

“Here we are,” Malcolm confirmed, as they turned onto the side road. “The house is about half a mile up.”

“Okay.” She couldn’t see anything yet as the road was tree-lined, but her excitement was growing, as were her nerves.

He nudged her, and before she could ask what, they came around the curve to see a gorgeous house waiting for them. The front of it contained three solid sections; the middle was Georgian-style, with a light-red brick front and a rounded portico. The side sections were white-washed and bright. The overall effect was of a beautiful, clean, well-maintained house, and her heart soared. Knowing that neither Malcolm nor Wallace had been there in so long had had her concerned about what the state of it would be, imagining a damp and dreary rundown house in the middle of nowhere.

This was infinitely better than that.

“Oh,” she gasped, squeezing his hand. “It’s spectacular.”

“Thank you,” Malcolm laughed. “Want to see the inside?”

She nodded eagerly, and still holding hands, they made their way inside.

#bbatcfic #ficandchips #Doctor Who #doctorroseprompts #Human!12xRose #Human!Twelfth Doctor #Rose Tyler #Human AU #AU #The Nuptial Necessity

11 notes · View notes

nototherwisespecified · 5 years

Note

Which dozen players would you want to see on the Great British Bake Off? Pick a type of baked good--what would their showstopper bakes be? Who would win and who would fail badly?

okay this is going to make it very obvious that I’ve … never watched gbbo, but I have listened to my mother’s rapturous descriptions of it & I’ve seen that one “started making it; had a breakdown; bon appétit” gifset so -

who’s on the show:

zdeno chara - he’s just as much Kale Dad as batya, but more entertaining for television, in my opinion

nicklas bäckström - he would get so fucking intense

tyson barrie - dessert aficionado; criminal to overlook him

johnny gaudreau - marge simpson I just think he’s neat dot jpg

brent burns - bakeoff braiding. I need to see it

connor mcdavid - he should be given every opportunity to have people say nice non-judgy things about him & stuff that isn’t hockey

sidney crosby -ditto

oliver ekman-larsson - he’d be a good sport!

claude giroux - competitive asshole & fun to watch

jordan martinook - enthusiasm

pk subban - self-explanatory

segs - I like to see him fail.

baked good type: brownies, because I like them. chara’s would be blendable; nicky’s would riff on kladdkaka; tyson’s would have some sort of molten element or at least a valiant attempt at one; gaudreau would include like. m&ms & potato chips; burns’ would somehow involve fucking venison & it’d be a travesty; connor mcdavid would literally be like “it’s a box mix because I knew I wouldn’t fuck it up but I made two batches because I couldn’t decide if you’d like fudgy or cakey better” & be super nervous about it; crosby’s would involve fruit syrup or something; giroux would have a brownie sandwich with sweet cheese filling (as close to a grilled cheese as possible); oel would have like triple-chocolate somethingorother; marty would just demand of the judges why they weren’t yelling; pk would do like fuckin gold leaf decorations AND it would be themed after his favorite statement coat AND somehow fantastically delicious because he & lindsey did a thing with a pastry chef once

segs would present a bottle of hersheys syrup & refuse to explain how his station became such a fucking mess

pk wins, crosby & giroux tied for a close second (both are infuriated). everyone tells davo he was wonderful & thoughtful for thinking of the weirdos who like cakey brownies. gaudreau confesses that team north america got high as shit once & liked the potato chips/m&ms thing, which is what inspired him; davo categorically refuses to confirm or deny. nicky gets points for not murdering anyone. tys’s attempt at lava is applauded by all. segs disqualified for crimes against flour

#hockeys and things that are not hockey #hypotheticals

14 notes · View notes

weretheoneswhowrite · 6 years

Text

Michonne and Carl Chronicles..

The Little Things

She sensed Carl’s presence even before he reached the threshold of their sun-drenched kitchen. Keeping her back turned, Michonne vigorously washed her hands, pausing for a moment to look through the large casement window framing the farmhouse sink. Smiling, she glimpsed Rick chasing a giddy Judith through the flower beds she and Carl had planted several weeks prior; colorful blooms just beginning to erupt from the previously barren patch of earth.

For a moment, she considered calling out to them not to trample all their hard work. But the sweet sound of Rick’s laughter, coupled with Judith’s blissful squeals changed her mind. They could always plant more flowers.

Shaking her wet hands over the sink, Michonne pulled a clean towel from the drawer to her right, quickly drying her hands before hanging the damp towel on the hook beside the stove. Turning to face Carl, she took in his adorably anxious face.

“Gonna just stand there?” she asked, walking towards the kitchen’s center island. “Enid’s meal won’t cook itself. You want to be a better cook, make it more ‘fun’ and less of a ‘chore’ right?”

Knowing how much this small, yet thoughtful act meant to Carl, Michonne gave him a moment to relax a bit. Her boy always wanted everything to be perfect. She’d do her best to make it so.

She watched as Carl slowly inhaled through pursed lips and nodded, before making his way towards her. Standing on the other side of the island, he reached down to pull out a stool from beneath the countertop, cringing slightly as its legs noisily scraped against the ceramic tiled floor.

“Ok then, let’s get started on your first lesson,” Michonne said, clapping her hands and gesturing for him to take a seat.

“Where do we start?” he asked.

All of this was for Enid. She was practical, like Michonne. But both also enjoyed those small, kind tokens of affection the men in their lives eagerly laid at their feet. Enid was grateful for anything he brought her and she always let him know.

It’s nice to know you were thinking about me because, I was thinking about you too, she often said.

He looked up at Michonne, instantly finding in her eyes the calming salve he often sought there. She gave him a reassuring look before ducking down to pull out two large plastic cutting boards from a drawer under the island. Placing them on the countertop in front of her, along with two chef’s knives, she created work stations for both of them.

“Lesson number one,” she began. “Always wash your hands. I don’t need extra seasoning in my food!”

Chuckling, Carl rose from the stool, making his way towards the sink.

“Before I forget, lesson one and a half is always and will forever be: clean as you go,” she declared, turning towards him as he neared her side of the island. “You will not bring a mess to my kitchen.”

“I know, I know,” he mumbled. “We cook clean, we’re clean cooks.”

“Exactly,” she replied, opting to ignore the dramatic eye-roll he gave her as he walked by.

Taking time to thoroughly wash his hands under a hawk-eyed Michonne, he theatrically held both up for her inspection. Satisfied, she handed him a fresh towel and waited patiently while he dried his hands, before beckoning him towards his assigned cutting board.

“Now what?” he asked, picking up his knife.

“Now we get organized,” she said. “Put down the knife. That’s lesson number three.”

* * *

“Thank goodness for libraries with central European cookbooks,” she stated, looking over the meat, vegetables, and spices neatly lined up in front of them.

Carl snickered, noting how ridiculous such a request must have sounded to the run crew. But Michonne had been adamant. Once procured, the two of them spent a few nights poring over recipes. Carl dog-earing the ones that sounded similar to what Enid had described, while Michonne figured out approximants for ingredients they didn’t have and wouldn’t be able to locate.

“C’mon Ma, can’t you just do it and I watch this time?” Carl asked, peeking through the thick curtain of hair obscuring his face from her. “I want it to be perfect and I don’t think it will be if I make it.”

“And what do I always say about perfection?” Michonne asked, letting her knife hover over the cutting board as she gave him her full attention.

His affectionate ‘Ma’, a residual effect of Judith’s incessant ‘Mama’ made her heart swell. It warmed her very soul.

“Perfection is the enemy of the good,” he muttered, unconvincingly.

“Precisely!” she exclaimed. “You should know by now the best way to learn is by doing.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m capable of learning by observation only,” he said, stifling a grin.

“Says the boy who couldn’t make his bed until I showed him five times,” she retorted.

“That’s because hospital corners are not a necessity,” Carl smugly replied. “Even dad says so.”

“And what do you know?” Michonne smirked. “I still get your dad to do it anyway. Besides, if you want to make sure she knows how you feel, you put in the time, put in the effort. That’s what she’ll remember.”

“But I’m no good at it,” Carl said, laying his hands flat on either side of the cutting board. “You and dad said so, and even Judith gets an attitude when it’s my turn to make dinner.”

“Don’t give me that,” Michonne playfully huffed. “You know good and well we’re only joking. And Judith? We all know our darling Judy-bear’s opinions go wherever the wind blows.”

“Yeah, she’s not very loyal, is she?” Carl cackled, picking up his knife. “Well, maybe to you. She’d sell the rest of us out in a heartbeat, but you’re safe.”

“True,” Michonne said, sharing his mirth. “This is about making an effort to do something meaningful for someone you care about. It’s the little things, those small acts of kindness that bring some relief to a wounded heart. I’m proud you came up with this and Enid will be too.”

“What do I do now?” he asked, thankful for her advice.

“Here you go,” she said, handing him an onion.

Throwing the large sphere into the air with one hand and catching it in the other, he studied Michonne as she expertly began cutting the venison on her cutting board into perfectly even cubes.

“Should I really be the one chopping the onions? I’m working with one eye here. I’d be in a world of hurt here if we were suddenly attacked and I couldn’t see…”

She snorted, looking up to catch the look of mischief playing across his face. Shaking her head, she watched Carl shrug and get down to business. They worked in silence for a few minutes, before Michonne looked up to catch a sniffling Carl use his sleeve to wipe his eye.

“Ok, ok,” she said, pulling away from her cutting board and moving over to the sink to once again wash her and dry her hands before making her way to Carl’s station. Carl dropped the onion into her open palm, before moving to the other cutting board.

Carl smiled to himself. He hadn’t been that bothered by the onions. He just didn’t want to do it.

“Oh, and don’t think I don’t know you’re half faking it with the onions,” she smugly stated. “And you see what I did there?” she asked, using her knife to point at the flawless cubes of meat she’d already prepped. “Don’t mess it up.”

“Didn’t we just agree that perfection is the enemy of the good?” he queried.

“Touché mon ami,” she laughed. “That was your perfection. You’re not allowed to mess with mine.”

* * *

“Tell me the story again?” Michonne quietly asked, watching as Carl pouring a few tablespoons of sunflower oil into the large stock pot on the stove.

“We were driving back to Alexandria when Enid got pretty quiet,” Carl began, turning the stove to high. “She’d remembered it was the anniversary of her parents’… you know. Said this was the first year she hadn’t started thinking about it weeks before. It threw her off.”

Michonne nodded. You want to forget, yet you pray you never do.

“Her grandma, she called her ‘Nagymama’, lived with them since she could remember. On special occasions, she would make Enid this Hungarian dish she insisted was ‘stew’ but had beans in it. Anyway, it was a little bit of a family joke that it was actually ‘chili’, and Enid came up with the compromise to call it ‘stili’. Enid kept telling me it was silly and she didn’t know why she was crying over it, but I didn’t think it was silly.”

“Of course, it isn’t,” Michonne replied, stopping her chopping to come stand next to him.

“My mom would make chili when I was sick and had to stay home. She wasn’t the best cook, but she made that dish right. She would put cheese on top. When she put it in front of me, it was always something fun. A smiley face, Mickey Mouse, something silly.”

“Yeah,” she murmured, watching as reminiscence caused his eye to mist. “Those are the things you want to hold close forever. C’mon, let’s make a new memory.”

* * *

Carl deliberately dropped handfuls of flour-dusted meat into the hot oil. He jumped back, expecting it to splatter, before using the wooden paddle Michonne had handed to him to stir the meat.

After he finished browning all the meat, he reduced the heat to medium and dropped onions, peppers, carrots, parsnips and spices into the pot. Once the onions were translucent and the vegetables had begun to brown, he returned the meat to the pot and poured Michonne’s homemade stock into the pot until everything was covered.

He added the beans they’d soaked overnight into the pot and gave everything a final stir. Turning the stove to low, he took a deep, satisfying breath. The entire house smelled like heaven. Enid would love it.

“Nice work, but we’re not done yet,” Michonne said, turning and walking towards the dining room. “Time for lesson number four.”

“What’s that?” Carl queried, swiveling his head but staying put in front of the stove, watching as small bubbles appeared on the surface of the simmering pot.

“Setting the table. Can’t have Enid enjoying your delicious meal without the proper accompaniment. We don’t go halfway in this house.”

She walked over to the sideboard where they kept the napkins and silverware.

“C’mon,” she teasingly commanded. “You’ve still got much to learn!”

Laughing to himself, Carl placed a lid on the pot and walked towards her. Of course. There would always be something to learn with Michonne around.

Written by: @nwfan

-We’re The Ones Who Write

#Michonne #carl grimes #michonne and carl chronicles #carchonne #nwfan #weretheoneswhowrite

50 notes · View notes