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parkswritessometimes · 6 months

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Escapees of IRIS CHPTR 4

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3]

Chase stares into the shelves of produce, his eyes scanning every object but notfully comprehending what he was seeing. Rows and rows of colorful produce stare back at him. He groans and presses his head against the refrigerator door, letting the cool stainless steel soothe his forming headache. The thought of cooking dinner fills Chase’s chest up with dread. Recipes and random thoughts crawl over one another, battling to be the one that Chase’s full attention goes to.

It’s been a full three weeks since he “moved in” with Jackie and Marvin. It’s time he started pulling his weight, cooking, cleaning, things that should be super easy. But these simple tasks still feel like moving an actual mountain, maybe he isn’t ready for this. He grips the door’s handle with all his might trying to stop his hands from shaking like they were on a fault line. He knew that going sober was going to be hard, but at least the worst was behind him. The only benefit of the whole IRIS debacle was it kept him away from alcohol and started the road of sobriety. His head isn’t as foggy, and his skin was finally starting to clear up for the first time since his early twenties. While he still had the odd craving for the sweetness of being in a thick haze, blocking out any guilt and emptiness, he was starting to feel better. More whole. His hands still shake, and the brain fog can be so intense it would leave him bedridden, but it feels worth it. Because everyday he is making his new friends proud. He is making Chole proud.

“Hey, Chaser!” Jackie’s voice rings throughout the small apartment, ripping Chase’s attention from the produce. “Whatcha doing?”

“Trying to make dinner but I can’t figure anything out.”

“Oh, dude, it’s fine. Marv is gonna bring home some Italian place from that nice place down the street.”

“Oh, well, is there anything you need me to do?”

“Chase, it’s fine. I promise. You look tired man, why don’t you go lay down.”

“Jackie, I’m fine. And I’ve been living here rent free for almost a month now. You have feed me, bought me a whole new wardrobe, for fucks sake Jackie, you practically renovated your room for me! Let me do something.” “Alright, alright,” Jackie puts his hands up as he concedes the fight. “I have some files in the corner of the living room that I didn’t put away, why don’t you clean that up for me?” “Fiiiine.” Chase laughs, his headache having completely disappeares as he goes into the living room.

The room was usually so clean the only word he could use to describe it was pristine, granted you have to ignore the blankets and pillows in random places, but other than that, not even a crumb could escape Marvin’s cleaning frenzies. But Marvin wasn’t here and Jackie made it today’s mission to completely redo his theory board. Well, Jackie preferres to call it his “superhero board”, but with all the string and newspaper clippings, and random placeholder photos, it looks like a crazy conspiracy theorist had gotten into their apartment.

Scraps of red yarn and remnants of newspaper clippings cluttered the corner of the room. Manila folders filled to the brim and ready to burst. Chase doesn’t even attempt to understand half of what was on the board. Faces he didn’t recognize, scientific terms that looked made up and cities he never heard of, litter the board.

“Jackie, what even is all this?” Chase asks, his fingers brushing up against the newspaper clippings.

“Oh, uh, I’m just tracking some people.” He calls out from the kitchen.

Chase’s eyes scan the sections of the board. The first one is obvious, the demon. ALTR 114209. A static image of the red hallway sits right in the middle. Newspaper clippings, reports, transcripts and images stem from the portrait. Chase could feel his stomach twist and distort the longer he looked at it.

The other two are a mystery to Chase. A placeholder image pinned in the middle of the board, and the name Jameson scrubbed just above it. Chase feels his heart ache at the clear desperation on the board. Pushpin holes decorate the top of each scrap of paper. IRIS reports that it looks like they’ll crumble if he touches them. Jackie’s notes are thrown up against the board, all asking where this person was.

If that section is full of love and concern, the last one is full of hate. Slashes and jagged cuts from the cutouts. Papers ripped and torn without care and thrown up onto the board. Pins in the faces of the scientist and fowl words scrawled across the articles. “IRIS scientists' son missing” the man’s eyes are full of false sorrow and pain. Chase knows the look of a broken man, and this isn’t it. His eyes hold a hint of sadism behind it all. Like he couldn’t care less, or even worse, that he was happy his son was gone. Chase feels the urge to call out to Jackie, to ask why this scientist was on his board, but his words are stuck in his throat. He has a feeling he already knew. He shakes off the disgusting feeling that has begun to crawl up his back, as he picks up the folders on the coffee table.

“Where do you want these Jackie?”

“Uh, fuck, where do I want those…um, just throw them in my room!”

Chase rolled his eyes as he smiled. Classic Jackie.

“You gotta get like a bookshelf or a filing cabinet.”

“Hey, my system works!”

“Barley!” Chase lets out a small chuckle as he opens the door to Jackie’s room. He begins to throw the folders on Jackie’s bed when he notices a familiar picture sticking out of one of the folders. He slides the folder out from the others, pulling it aside. His heart drops to his stomach, as he looks at the label. Every fiber of his being tells him to put it back with the others, pretending that he never saw it. But he has to know. His eyes scan over the document, skipping what little stuff he already knows, trying to find something that would fill in the gaps that are being withheld from him.

ALTR 114209 was subsequently freed by Dr.[redacted], letting the subject escape containment. We theorize that Dr.[redacted], was influenced by ALTR 114209. But until Dr. [redacted] reovers we will be unable to confirm. The [redacted], that was used to contain ALTR 114209 was found scattered in said ALTR’s containment unit.

Witnesses claim that ALTR 114209 was not fully formed, taking the image of a distorted green man, glitching heavily and erratically, a large gash in his neck and limbs phasing in and out of existence. Witnesses also claim that ALTR 114209 did not interact at all with employees or members of the CNC unit, instead going straight for the electrical cables.

ALTR 114209 will most likely use technology such as monitors, cables, telephone and electrical wires, to travel until it can find a proper host and/or vessel. We will do our best to recontain the ALTR before it can attach itself to a host and/or vessel.

Be on the lookout for-

Chase feels his entire body go numb as the folder slips out of his hands. His mind races as he tries to process all the information on that sheet of paper. He can feel his heart sink like a rock in the abyss that had become his life.

“Holy shit.” Those are the only words in his broken mind he can manage. “Holy shit.”

They let him go. They let him go. They let Stacy die. They let Chloe die! IRIS was to blame! They could have done something, anything, but they let it go!

He wants to scream, to cry, to punch a hole in the wall over and over and over again until the drywall is embedded into his flesh, but he is just unmoving on the bed. He can’t breathe, he can’t blink, he’s as frozen and helpless as he was when that creature first arrived.

He feels tears flow down his face, as the world starts to distort. He feels his mind start to leave his body, that familiar tingle beginning to crawl up his spine. He knows deep in his heart that this was him beginning to dissociate. That there is no way Anti can reach him here. But a part of him wishes the ALTR was here. He wishes the demon will take over his body and shove him into the depths of the void. Take his body someplace safe and quiet, before cutting and slicing into it. Letting the crimson red pain flow down his body, then let Chase clean the mess up once he was done using his body.

Drink. I need-wheres my-I need-Drink. His mind yeared as his cravings hit him full force. Whiskey. Suntori. Where-I-I need it. His hands pat the bed sheets, searching for the sweetness of his whiskey. It has to be here somewhere. It was always near his bed. Where is it?! Where is it?! Where is it?!

“Chase, hey, Marvin just came back, and-“

Chase looks up at the hero, words fight to reach his mouth, they clamber and reach over each other, desperate to be on his tongue. What does he say? Does he know?! Does he have the answer?

“Jackie,” He chokes out. “I-They,”

“Chase are you-“ Chase watches as Jackie’s eyes land on the folder on the floor. He can practically see the gears turning behind Jackie’s eyes “Oh…Chase why don’t we put that away and-“

“No. I-They killed them. They let it go. IRIS they-Jackie they-it-“

“Chase hey, I know, trust me, I know.”

“No the fuck you do not! You have no idea what that is like!” Chase screamed as he bolted up from the bed. “You didn’t-You didn’t have to kill your own child-and they-they could have prevented it! How many-How many people died because they let it go! Did you know about this?! Did you let it kill Chloe too?!” Chase’s index finger digs right at Jackie’s heart. He sees Jackie’s face contort into one of fear and sadness. Good. He needs this to hurt. He wants it to hurt.

“Chase, Chaser, hey, can you follow my breathing? Can you please help me help you?”

“No! I don’t want anymore of this bullshit! I don’t want-I don’t want you! I don’t want to be here! I want to go home and-and drink and I want to die!”

Chase's chest heaves as he spat out the words. He can’t understand what he is saying, only that he was saying everything he needsto say to get everyone away from him.

“Chase, hey, I know you don’t mean that,”

“Yes I do! You don’t know shit about me Jackie!”

“I know that people say things they don’t mean when they’re upset.”

“Well, I want to die! I want to drink! I want-I want this pain to go away! And you-you aren’t going to be any help in accomplishing that goal, so you can fuck off! ”

Chase shoves Jackie aside as he storms out of the room. To small, to small. This room , this apartment, did he even ever leave IRIS?! Did Jackie and Marvin work for them?!

The world beomes gray and slow as he walks out of the room. He feels his hands wrap around a set of keys, snatching them from the kitchen table. Jackie’s screams sound like distant ambiance by the time they reach Chase’s ears. Marvin’s desperate grasp feels like nothing as he rips himself away. And even the door slamming shut is nothing more than a simple vibration, running down the hallway.

Fuck Jackie. Fuck Marvin. Fuck IRIS. Fuck everything and everyone.

But mostly, fuck him.

#jacksepticeye #writers of jack #writersofjack #chase brody #jackieboyman #marvin the magnificent #ALTRVerse

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splendentgoddess · 1 year

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I’m still alive!

Hey everyone. Just checking in to let you all know that I’m alive and well but life has just been AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! lately. 😂

After almost being roasted alive this last summer and each summer for the last few years just continually getting worse and worse (what climate change?) my husband and I have finally decided to move back home to the HIGH desert, rather than the LOW desert where we currently live. Huge, huge difference in summer temps, even when it’s not that significant a difference on paper, because 108F/42.2C is a hell of a lot better than 118F/47.7C, plus it cools off at night there because of the high elevation and cool mountain winds. It’s one of those deserts where as soon as the sun drops, the temperature drops along with it. Not here, where we just simmer in a bowl all night long. I’m tired of the nighttime LOW being in the low 90sF/32.2-33.8C.

Ugh.

Not to mention it’s like the never ending summer every year, still hot as balls well into the first half of October, at least. It only just now FINALLY feels like autumn here, whereas up in the high desert it cools off seasonally a lot sooner. And they have proper winters there. I miss the winter.

🎵I miss the winter. A world of fragile things. Look for me in the white forest, hiding in a hollow tree. (Come and find me.)🎵

Here in southern California’s low desert we only sort of have summer and not-summer. There’s an autumn/spring blend where it’s blessedly cool enough to wear sweaters/jumpers without roasting to death, and then far too soon it starts to warm back up again. In February we’re already saying with foreboding “Summer is coming.” But I was willing to put up with it if he was, but my husband is actually a lot more heat sensitive than I am and was genuinely ill multiple times this last summer. With the drastic increase in humidity lately the evaporative cooler also no longer works well, either, so we’d be holed up in the bedroom with the small a/c going while even the kitchen and living room inside our own house was like 90F/32.2C, while the outside temps were over 120F/48.8C.

So we decided we had to get the fuck out, and now for the REALLY good news! My wonderful, loving, absolutely has always been there for us mother, and her current husband, have invited us to come move in with them. Rent. Free. They��re elderly, he’s sickly, it’s a HUGE 4bd house she’s been struggling to take care of all by her lonesome, so we’re going to earn our keep by taking over the basic normal day-to-day household chores (not even like cooking because she loves to cook but I just mean like cleaning, and taking care of weeds in the yard, etc.) and also we won’t be a burden on them financially because we’ll be selling our current home and so will have money in the bank (it’s just a mobile home so it’s not like we’ll be rolling in dough but at least it’s something), plus we’re still going to work a little bit to earn enough money to pay our few remaining bills like car insurance and cellphones, and buy our own food, etc. My husband is a self-employed housekeeper (I made him business cards that say Man Maid, hahaha) and he’s going to keep a handful of his best clients that really don’t want to see him go, and we’ll commute out here bi-weekly since it’s only a two-hour drive, and I will be helping him so he’s not killing himself doing it all by himself anymore.

I GET TO QUIT MY RETAIL JOB!!! I’m so excited! Hashtag Living The Dream. We’re going to be semi-retired and only working a couple days every two weeks and the rest of the time, guess what? I WILL FINALLY GET TO WORK ON ALL MY WRITING (and reading) THAT I HAVEN’T HAD THE TIME FOR.

*happy dance*

So yeah, everyone just hang in there, and I hope to soon be a MUCH bigger presence in the fandom again. Our house goes on the market in only a few days. We busted our asses this last month to get it presentable, LOL. I didn’t even really get to enjoy Spooky Season because I was too busy with cleaning the house and packing on my days off, but that’s okay because it’s not like we would’ve gone to go do anything, anyway, since there’s still a fucking plague.

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dreamlessinparis · 3 years

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Refreshing Bliss

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: When a heat wave becomes too much, Bucky finds a way to cool down his lovers and heat them up.

Warning: no plot, just smut, pool sex, dirty talk, explicit language, Bucky and Steve in a pool, fluff, pet names, 18+

If you're a minor, DNI

Please do not repost, publish or translate my work. Reblogs and comments are appreciated! Thank you for reading :)

A/N: Okay I know I said I'd have this up before the weekend was up and it's now Wednesday, I suck 🙈 haha I'm sorry this took longer than anticipated, but I really hope you like it @thefallenbibliophilequote and it quenches your pool needs😘😊 all mistakes are my own.

You could literally feel the sweltering heat through the glass window you were standing in front of. The heatwave was drastically getting worse and nothing was helping. The inner pool was under construction and the outdoor pool was still being built. Why Tony hadn’t built that with the rest of the compound you would never know.

Alas despite the high-tech facilities of the place, the AC was having technical issues and in the midst of Tony fixing them, the whole compound was slowly melting. Everyone was down to their skivvies and aside from ogling eyes, there wasn’t any touching. It was too hot to even think about. Which was impossible to fathom considering who you were dating.

Bucky and Steve had become a permanent fixture in your life since the night of your catastrophic mission. The fear of losing you had caused them to reveal their true feelings and they were ecstatic that you reciprocated them. Truly you couldn't have been happier and that happiness only grew from there. But recently you were avoiding them, those two ran hotter than the average person and in this heat, it was unbearable to deal with.

"Bunny?" Steve's voice pulled you away from your thoughts and you looked over your shoulder. He looked absolutely delectable, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts that hung dangerously low on his hips. His sculpted chest was beaded with sweat and your mouth watered at the thought of running your tongue over all the hard planes.

"Hmm?" you hummed, turning to face him fully. "What's up Steve?"

Your eyes remained glued to his glistening pecs and he chuckled softly.

"Eyes up here bunny," Steve began to walk towards you and you backed away until your bare back was pressed against the heated glass. Your eyes reluctantly broke away from his chest, and widened at the intense look in his eyes.

"Steve, no," you said, placing your hands on his chest, keeping him from coming any closer. The muscles jumped at your touch and you couldn't help the moan that escaped you.

"No?" His eyebrow cocked, challenging your willpower.

You tried your hardest to gain your resolve, shaking your head slowly. "No Steve, it's too hot."

"We can make it hotter. Come on, sweetheart, you've been avoiding us for well over a week and we miss you," he said, leaning to place soft kisses on your neck. Your arms buckled slightly, allowing him to take a step closer. His lips brushed over a sensitive spot, causing you to sink your nails into the skin of his pecs.

The groan he let out rumbled through your body and the next thing you knew, he had you pressed hard against the glass and his smoldering body. His thigh found its way between your legs, your shorts barely a barrier. Your hips rocked subconsciously, needing to relieve the ache that had been plaguing you for too long.

“Steve,” you whimpered, his thigh pressed harder against your core, and your head fell back against the glass with a thud.

“Yes?” he mumbled into your soft skin.

“It’s too hot,” you argued weakly, as his warm hand slid underneath your halter top, and cupped your breast. You arched into his touch and for a moment, you thought about saying fuck it and letting him have his way with you.

But even the pleasure of his body, couldn’t bypass the rising heat, sweat clinging to your skin. It was sticky and hot, but not in a good way. You were getting too irritated to enjoy any of it and Steve felt it, pulling away with a huff.

“We have to do something about this heat,” he complained, “I can’t keep watching you in these barely-there outfits and not fucking you against every surface.”

You laughed, knowing he was completely right. The heat was going to be the death of everyone in this compound if Tony didn’t figure out a way to make the AC work better.

“I know, Steve. It’s not easy for me either. Watching you and Bucky half-naked, working out in those shorts. It’s torture.” you whined, tossing your hands up in the air in frustration. Steve groaned as the movement caused your breasts to bounce; he adjusted himself, sitting on the bed in a huff.

Bucky walked in, hair clinging to his face, sweat dripping. He had just finished an outdoor workout with Sam and looked in need of a cold shower. The thought seemed to quickly dissipate as he took in the sight of you still leaning against the glass. The look in his eye told you that he wanted so badly to nail you against it but unlike Steve, he understood that the heat was killing you as much as it was him. Even his metal arm was warm to the touch.

“Hi Buck,” you smiled, greeting the brunette man. Bucky couldn’t help but smile back. His smile lit up his whole face and it made your heart happy, knowing you could make him so carefree and warm. He thought he was lucky to have you but it was just the opposite. You knew though that god if he couldn’t touch you for another day or two, he was going to lose it.

“Hey doll, how are you doing?”

“Hot, Buck. She’s hot, we’re all fucking hot and I’m going to lose my mind,” Steve ranted, throwing himself back onto the bed. Bucky chuckled at his frustration, even though he could relate.

“Thank you, Steve. I hadn’t realized how hot it was,” Bucky joked, walking between the two of you to the set of drawers and grabbing a clean pair of boxers. He dropped his shorts to the ground and your jaw dropped with them. His firm asscheeks were taunting you and you just wanted to bite one. You strayed your glance up to the muscles of his back, moving fluidly under his skin as he walked to the bathroom. He was absolutely a work of art, they both were.

“I’m going to take a shower and then I’ll tell you guys about the idea I had for saving us from the heat,” Bucky continued, turning slightly to face you both. With what can only be considered herculean strength, you focused solely on his face and nowhere lower. “Actually, why wait. You two start packing, I’m taking you on to a surprise location.”

Neither you nor Steve moved, eyeing him warily. He clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

“With a pool and great AC,” he finished and the two of you jumped into motion. Chuckling, Bucky entered the bathroom and shut the door behind him as you and Steve rushed to pack.

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

The house was in a secluded neighborhood a few miles from the compound. It was a two-story cabin-style house, build near the edge of a mountain; the closest neighbor had to be at least a couple miles away if not more.

You climbed out of the cool car and were immediately slapped in the face by the humidity. Debating for a moment whether you were going to climb back in or make a run for the front door, you decided on the latter. Snatching the keys out of Bucky’s hand, you ran.

“Oh yeah, doll, that’s nice. It’s not like we’re hot or anything.” Bucky quipped, pulling your suitcase out of the back and reaching in for his.

You ran backward for a moment as you responded, “I know you’re hot, James. That’s why I’m dating you,” and with a smirk on your face, you winked before making your way inside

It felt like heaven inside, the coolness licking across your skin and making you shiver. Shiver! You couldn’t the last time you shivered. Doing a happy dance, you spun in a quick circle in excitement, taking in the stunning house you were in.

The open layout of the first floor allowed you see out the back window to the glistening pool. A beautiful, welcoming, infinity pool with a killer view of the mountainscape and the towns below. Your feet carried you through the house, taking in the rustic decorations and the wide, open kitchen, before padding up the stairs.

There were so many doors, you didn’t know which one to look in first but the open door at the end of the hall did seem quite promising. You heard the boys downstairs with the luggage, Steve noting how nice it felt in here. Leaning over the railing, you waved down at them.

“Hi Bunny, did you find the bedrooms?” Steve asked an air of excitement in his tone.

“Bucky, whose place is this?” you questioned, ignoring your boyfriend’s horniness for the time being. You were playing with fire and you knew it but sometimes you preferred Steve a little riled up. Brought his Captain voice out and you got turned on just thinking about it.

“It’s mine, doll,” Bucky answered, coming up the stairs with the luggage, “I bought it a few months ago but they were renovating parts of it and they finished everything up yesterday.”

He walked past you towards the open door and you trailed behind him. You were on a mission and it involved the bed. The room was so spacious that the California king looked smaller than it was. You were about to go jump on the bed, when a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into the brick wall that Steve called his torso.

“Uh uh, Bucky and I are going to go for a dip first, since you were so eager to run from us earlier. It’s our turn to run from you,” Steve’s velvety baritone filled your ears. You let out a needy whimper as you tried to grind back into him. His grip on you was too tight for you to even wiggle your hips.

Bucky came up and gave you a light kiss. “Be a good girl, and get your swimsuit doll. We’ll be downstairs waiting for you.”

Steve released you and you did as you were told, hoping you’d be rewarded thoroughly.

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

Bucky was leaning against the wall of the pool, arms resting on the ledge, head resting backwards. Steve was coming out of the water from his lap when the sliding door opened and both pairs of eyes whirled onto you. The bikini you wore left very little to the imagination and you had bought it on a whim, never thinking you’d wear it.

However, it was the one that Steve had packed and the only other option was to come down nude. Water droplets clung to Steve’s body like little gems as he began to climb out. He held his hand out to you, pulling you in for a chaste kiss before he headed towards the deep end, doing a backflip into the pool, splashing your legs.

The water was so refreshing and despite how welcoming it looked, swimming was not your thing. You gently lowered yourself to the concrete, sliding your legs into the liquid euphoria. It felt blissful and you thought about going all the way in, but you were over the deep end, and the thought of your feet not touching the ground, freaked you the fuck out.

Bucky swam over to you, large hands resting on your thighs.

“You’re not getting in doll?”

“Swimming’s not my thing,” you replied, shaking your head, “I’ll just wait here patiently, while you guys do your thing.”

“As pretty as you look perched up there, you’d look even prettier if you were wet,” Steve swam up beside Bucky, placing a kiss on your knee. His fingers trailed up your leg, teasing the edge of your bottoms, “Let me rephrase, wetter.”

His thumb slipped under them, gliding over your pussy lips and your legs spread wider to give him more access. He rubbed light circles on your clit, as Bucky kissed up and down your other leg. You gasped lightly, eye fluttering shut as you tilted your hips forward.

Steve increased his speed and Bucky switched between kisses and light nips. You were right on the brink of an orgasm when they both pulled back. Your eyes flew open in shock. The two grinned up at you innocently like they didn’t just edge you.

“If you want more, bunny, you’re gonna have to get in,” Steve taunted, wiggling his fingers at you.

“Steveee,” you pouted, kicking your legs out to splash him. He shook his head, swimming backward away from you. Bucky sensed your hesitation, squeezing your thigh reassuringly.

“We just want you to have fun with us doll. How about you get in and I carry you around? I promise I won’t let you drown.”

His gray blue eyes were sincere as his hands came to rest on your waist, tugging you light forward. Your hands shot out, gripping his shoulders as you allowed him to pull you in. The contrast of the cold water to the hot air raised goosebumps all over your body. Your arms slid loosely around his shoulders as you became fully submerged. Legs wrapped around his slender waist, you clung to him like a koala.

You were safe in his arms and you knew it, allowing your body to relax. Tilting your head back, you submerged your hair, letting it float behind you like a mermaid. Bucky’s metal hand held you up by the ass, and he used his other arm to maneuver over to the corner where Steve waited.

You ran your fingers through Bucky’s wet hair as you enjoyed the glide of the water on your skin. They were right, it felt so nice, but it was even nicer being carried around. Noticing that you were in what would be considered the shallow end, you were surprised to see that even with Bucky’s feet touching the ground, the water came up to his biceps. The pool was definitely not built for people who couldn’t swim or were shorter than 6ft, that was for sure.

Steve traced up your spine, fingers wrapping around the back of your neck so that he could kiss you. The kiss was dirty and obscene, making you roll your body, grinding on Bucky’s abs. Steve’s hard cock was pressed against your ass and Bucky rocked his own hard-on against you to create some friction. Steve’s tongue tangled with yours, his grip shifting to your hair, grabbing a hard handful.

You moaned into his mouth, arching forward, your chest cresting out of the water. Bucky licked a path from the valley of your breasts to your collarbone, before biting his way back down. He nuzzled in between your breasts, placing open-mouthed kisses along the skin.

Since you were pressed so snugly between the two supersoldiers, Bucky felt comfortable enough to slide his metal hand up your torso to meet his flesh hand. Cupping your boobs, he kneaded them roughly, enjoying the way you rolled your body in response. His thumbs hooked to the cloth triangles, moving them to the side, as your breasts popped free of their confines.

Steve’s hand stayed in your hair as he pulled away to give you both a chance to breathe. He shifted his focus to your neck, using your hair to rotate your face to the side giving him better access. His teeth grazed over the delicate skin, drawing a soft mewl out of you. Bucky’s lips wrapped around your nipple, licking and sucking hungrily before his teeth bit down gently and gave it a tug.

“Bucky, fuck.. just like that,” you moaned, eyes rolling into the back of your head in pleasure.

His metal hand toyed with the other breast, running his thumb over the nipple, hardening it. He pinched it, rolling it between his fingers. His eyes rolled up to look at you and he moaned at the expression of pure ecstasy on your face. The vibrations felt so good and combined with Steve’s assault on your neck, it made you grind your hips harder.

You could feel the coil tightening when Steve’s hands fell to your waist as he guided you and Bucky to the pool wall. He helped Bucky shift his hold on you, hooking his arms under yours, hands gripping the edge of the pool wall. He then spread your legs wide enough for Bucky to step between them. Steve reached into Bucky’s trunks and grabbed ahold of his dick, pumping him.

Bucky was now attached to your other nipple, and Steve’s hand made him moan again. His hips bucked and Steve groaned, using his other hand to untie the sides of your bikini. Pulling Bucky out completely, he guided the tip through your swollen folds, coating him in your slick.

Bucky released your nipple with a pop, burying his head in your neck as Steve lined him up with your pulsing entrance. You moaned loudly as Bucky slid in, the burn of the strength had you digging your nails into both of their biceps.

“You’re so fucking tight, doll. I don’t know if I’m gonna fit,” Bucky grunted, into your neck.

“Oh we’re gonna make it fit, Buck,” Steve growled, “Our girl’s been deprived too long, she needs to be filled to the brim.”

“Don’t stop, Bucky. I can take it,” you begged, head falling back as his hips jerked, inching deeper.

Steve stroked Bucky’s hair as the brunette rocked his hips slowly, the pain turning quickly to pleasure. Bucky kissed your neck, then along the edge of your jaw before capturing your lips.

Steve gripped Bucky’s ass, guiding him to go faster, watching as each hard thrust made your tits bounce. You felt so full, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked you hard. The feeling was so good, the cool water licking along your heated skin, waves caused by the rhythm of Bucky’s movements.

“How’s that feel Bunny?” Steve asked, stroking himself languidly. He had pulled his trucks off and they were now floating beside Bucky’s on the water.

Bucky’s growls were low in your ear and the sound of them was making you throb. The fact that your body was causing this god of a man to fall apart, made you feel far too powerful. Your hand tugged on Bucky’s locks, making him groan and fuck you faster.

“So good, Steve,” you panted, “Buck, right there, baby, right fucking there!” Bucky’s hips angled according to your words, hitting your sweet spot with such ferocity that your climax hit out of nothing. Your toes curled hard as your thighs shook from the intensity of the orgasm and its aftershocks. Bucky’s hips kept going as he fucked you through it, the way you were clenching around him made him cum shortly after. He groaned as he shot ropes of cum into you, painting your walls.

The two of you breathed heavily, Buck’s head resting on your heaving chest. As much as Steve enjoyed the show he was getting impatient so grabbing the back of Buck’s neck, he gently pulled him off you. A sad sigh escaped you as his cock slid out of you. Steve’s arm quickly wrapped around your waist, not allowing you to sink.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m going to fill you in just a moment,” he shushed you, kissing your temple reassuringly. Bucky’s hands worked quickly to rid you of your top, tossing it over his shoulder to join the rest. “Buck, sit on the ledge. Bunny is going to suck your dick, while I fuck her from behind. Isn’t that right baby?”

“Yes, Steve,” you nodded rapidly, excited by the prospect. You were insatiable when it came to these two and they could fuck you unconscious every day of the week, no problem.

Bucky chuckled at your enthusiasm as he pulled himself up on the ledge. His cock was already semi erect again. Thank god for that serum.

Steve held you to him, back to his chest, placing light kisses to your shoulder as he waited for Bucky to get situated. Your boys were so careful with you and you loved them that much more for it. He swam forward until you could hold onto Bucky’s thighs, running your hands over the coiled muscle. Buck’s hand stroked your cheek as you looked up at him through your lashes.

He smiled wide, loving the sight of you in front of him, leaning down to kiss you deeply. Steve held the back of your thighs up, positioning himself before pushing in.

“I swear nothing compares to this tight little pussy, bunny. I could stay buried in your warmth all fucking day,” Steve said, bottoming out with a swift thrust of his hips. The stretch of him was easier to adjust to after Bucky, but a slight burn still remained.

Bucky’s lips muffled your sounds of pleasure. You clenched around Steve, your warmth enveloping him and he moaned loudly. His thrusts found a steady rhythm and you whimpered as you separated from Bucky, resting your head on his thigh to collect yourself for a moment.

It was getting hard to focus, each drive of his hips knocking the breath out of you. Your fingers languidly ghosted over Bucky’s shaft, making him gasp. Needing him to make more noise, you gathered your strength and turned your attention to the gorgeous cock, the red tip angry and weeping. Your fingers enclosed around it, squeezing lightly, a jolt of excitement ran through you when you heard his breath catch. Collecting the gathered droplets of precum on your thumb, you maintained eye contact as you sucked it off, savoring his salty taste. Bucky’s gaze was heated as the anticipation for your next move tightened his whole body.

Your tongue darted out to circle the tip of Bucky’s hardening cock, your hand wrapped around the base, pumping him. Bucky bit back a moan as your lips wrapped around him. Hollowing out your cheeks, you took him further down your throat. Bucky’s hand found the back of your head as he followed the rhythm of your head.

“Oh you’re driving me nuts,” Bucky panted, “I know you can handle all of me, doll. Come on, just a little more.” he pushed down lightly to guide you further.

The tip of his cock hit the back of your throat and you fought your gag reflex as you swallowed him a little further. Your nose nuzzled the coarse hairs at the base of his cock, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes before letting your head come up and sinking back down, bobbing faster.

Steve began to thrust his hips at a brutal speed, hands digging into your hips, holding you buoyant. He had been dreaming of this moment for weeks now and he was so impatient after watching Bucky fuck you. You moaned making Bucky groan and his grip tightened on your hair. The slurping noises coming out your mouth, combined with the slapping of water spurred both men on.

Bucky’s hips began to buck, making you choke a little. You flattened your tongue and relaxed your jaw, allowing him to take control. He thrusted into your mouth, holding your head with both hands. Tears streamed down your cheeks, as lines of spit escaped the corners of your lips. You did your best to breathe through your nose, but it became difficult when Bucky buried himself so far down your throat, holding you there for a moment before pulling back.

His grip eased on your hair allowing you to wrap your hand around his cock, pulling it free from your mouth with a pop, gasping a little. The way your face was flushed, drool and precum all over your chin, light gasps falling from your lips, you looked absolutely cockdrunk and Bucky almost came at the sight of you. He ran his thumb along your bottom lip and you kissed it sweetly, making him smile. Steve took that moment to roll his hips, angling them to sheathe deeper in you.

“Ah shit Steve,” your mouth fell open, gasping as Steve hit the spot that makes you see stars. You clung to Bucky’s thighs as the power of Steve’s ruts, made your breasts hit against the pool tiles. You were a whimpering mess, eyes rolling in the back of your head as you chanted Steve’s name. Steve’s hips slamming against yours harder and harder.

As pretty as the noises coming from you were, Bucky needed to feel your warm mouth on him again. He placed his thumb on your tongue, pulling it out a bit further before he slapped his cock against it.

He always felt so good in your mouth, the heavy girth of him stretching your mouth wide. You licked a broad stripe down the shaft, tracing the thick vein. Truly you could spend hours worshiping Bucky’s cock; Steve’s was just as amazing but the breathy noises that Buck made were unmatched.

Steve bit down on your shoulder, as your cunt gripped him snugly. Bucky’s cock twitched against your tongue, you could tell he was close, so you took him back in your mouth, deep throating him to the best of your ability. His eyes slid shut, head lolling back. The feeling was intense; you were stuffed from both ends and your body was overwrought with pleasure. The knot in your stomach was beginning to unravel with every drag of Steve’s veiny cock.

Steve groaned in your ear, as your orgasm washed over you, feeling your walls pulse.

“Fuck bunny, you’re milking me so good. I’m not gonna last much longer!” The rapid flutters of your silky walls were enough to send him over the edge right after you, flooding you with hot cum deep with each drive of his hips. You screamed around Bucky’s cock, triggering his climax, and his spend shot down your throat.

Bucky slowly pulled out of you, cradling your head to move onto his thigh as you caught your breath. He leaned back on his hands doing the same. Steve slowly left your warmth, the emptiness making you whimper. He held you carefully shifting you around so you were resting against his chest.

“I missed you both,” you whispered into his chest. “Can we take a nap now?”

The pair chuckled, as Steve carried you out of the pool, and Bucky wrapped a warm towel around your back.

“Sure doll, we can nap,” Bucky said, kissing the top of your head.

“And then after we can break in the bed,” Steve stated.

“And the kitchen,” Bucky added.

“Don’t forget the shower,” you chimed in, sleepily.

“Might as well just ruin the whole house,” Steve laughed, going inside, Bucky sliding the door shut after you.

“Sounds like a plan to me. What do you think doll?”

“Mhmm, great plan. But first, we nap,” you concluded.

Taglist: @jobean12-blog @caffiend-queen @fuckandfluff @blackwiddows @sweeterthanthis

#bucky x reader #steve rogers x reader #stucky x reader #au stucky #pool sex fic #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes

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lord-explosion-baku · 3 years

Text

Trident Tale part 2

Mermaid!Shinsou x reader x Kirishima x reader

Warnings: adult themes (minors DNI)

Author’s note: sorry to those of you who have asked me to put on the tag list! I don’t do tag lists! But if you don’t want to lose this story, you can always bookmark it on AO3.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Original image by @maewoahoah

Moving to an island where everyone is big on the surf scene and other oceanic happenings might not have been the brightest idea for someone so afraid of anything that has to do with water, but you make do by spending your days looking after the Bed & Breakfast, trying not to burn the house down when you fry a few eggs, and obsessively scrolling through Eijirou Kirishima’s social media page. He’ll never notice you, and you think you’re fine with that, until a mysterious force washes into Ms. Shuzenji’s pool after a particularly nasty storm.

Hitoshi Shinsou is a pain in the ass from the get-go, but you put up with him, fins and all, when he promises he can help unite you with your soulmate. The catch? The fish is hellbent on taking back what was stolen from him, and he won’t lift a gracious finger until he gets what he came for.

You’re helpless to lend him a hand, so long as you stay dry. Unless, of course, he has other plans.

You know how the saying goes: you rub his fins, he’ll rub yours.

The thing about being hungry is that you can sometimes convince yourself that you’re full. You can sip water, swallow your breath, pop a few mints in—hell, you could even pretend to eat. However, even if you might trick your brain, your stomach will still be empty.

By the time you finally get some real goddamn food in your stomach, it will be aching from being teased.

It feels like this is exactly what Hitoshi Shinsou has done to you. Teased you. He’d mentioned being one of Ryūjin, which you can only assume is something religious or magic. You know he’s a fish, and that he makes people’s skin glow when he touches them, and apparently his lips or his saliva can heal wounds. But he’s not yet given you any real goddamn food.

The jerk has been swimming circles around the pool, commenting on how disgusting it is being stuck with all the trash, and complaining about your poor hospitality, but has not yet told you what the hell he’s doing here.

It’s not like you ever asked for some creature to crash into Ms. Shuzenji’s pool. Maybe some people would be ecstatic over finding an actual merperson, but life isn’t all about singing songs and talking to seagulls. He’s definitely not an Ariel, unless he is in fact looking for a prince. With all his sass, you think he’s much more of an Ursula than a Disney princess. If he is a sea-witch, he refuses to tell you.

It won’t matter much by the time Denki gets here anyways. You had been honest when you said you wouldn’t put it against him to call some news station when he sees Hitoshi. You figure that after some science lab’s helicopters carried your intruder away to run tests on him, the fish-man will be out of your hair and a thing of the past.

Despite the cynicism crawling through your head, the thought actually makes a guilty pit form in the bottom of your stomach. A life is a life, afterall.

“At least tell me why you tried to…to…” Your mouth flattens when you recall Hitoshi leaning into you, his lips a whisper away from yours.

“To?” Hitoshi asks while he observes the wayward bra that blew into the pool with notable repulsion.

“To kiss me!” You bark out, ears warm.

“Oh, that?” He purses his lips, spinning the bra around in the water. Then, he’s contemplative for a moment, as if he’s thinking of an excuse that won’t make you angry. Or will. He seems to get a kick out of frustrating you.

“I suppose I should’ve considered that it’s not a social norm for humans to greet other humans with their lips,” he says with a cocky, probably lying smirk. “My bad.”

“You expect me to believe that mermaids kiss each other to say hello?”

“Not a mermaid.” The fish is all teeth as he regards you. “I’m one of Ryūjin. And I’d like to think that you’d believe anything I tell you, since you seem to know nothing about my people.”

“Because you won’t tell me anything about your people,” you mutter right before the house bell rings. Your heart jumps with a spike of panic. You haven’t thought about what you’re going to say to Denki yet. You begin thinking about science labs again, and that knot in your stomach tightens.

“Okay,” you say in a warning tone, “I’m gonna let Denki in now…”

“Uh-huh.”

“He’s gonna see you…”

“That’s the plan.” Hitoshi lifts a brow. “You’re not worried for me, are you?”

“I just think you should be more worried about yourself,” you say. “Humans aren’t…” There’s a pensive pause when you try to search for the right word. “Humans aren’t good.”

“Would you say that you’re a good human?” He asks.

What a question. You’d like to believe that you are, but you can’t kid yourself. Never one to be very self-sacrificing, you utter your next words with confidence. “Nope.”

“And yet, you haven’t done anything malicious towards me. Nothing, besides that half-assed attempt to kick me away from you, anyways.”

Rolling your eyes to keep your couldn’t-care-less facade up, you left the smirking merman to wade around in the murky pool. There’s not another second to think about what you could possibly say to Denki about your surprise guest, because when you enter the house, you see his face peeking through the side window next to the front door. You could see a drink holder and a Tiki Burger bag in his hand. His smile is bright, while yours is grim.

He pouts, seeing through forced body language, and proceeds to make a funny face. You let out a half-sigh, half-laugh. You might not be a good person, but Denki is. He’s an idiot, but you don’t think he’d ever do anything to harm another creature, mythical or not. This could even be fun to him. Exciting. Something extraordinary happened, and you’d been too scared to react to it appropriately, but Denki would be different.

Your changing emotions grow palpable when you finally reach for the handle.

“Heard you had some thingies that needed twisting,” Denki says as you open the door. He’s wearing his company’s shirt, a brown thing with the PoolPros logo on it, though it’s cut raggedly short to show off his midriff. He’s been particularly confident ever since he’d gotten his navel pierced, and happily showed off the topaz stone that Kirishima had given him. It hangs right above his buckle. It forces onlookers to look at his abs…or maybe his groin. He says it’s lucky, and you haven’t argued with him about it. You would probably call something Kirishima gave you lucky too.

In a flash, you’re grabbing him by his shirt collar and guiding him in and against one of the hall mirrors.

“Something’s happened.” The words immediately spill out, even while you still do not know what you’re going to say. You hope that if the right things tumble out of your mouth, Denki will get the picture.

“Uh…” Denki’s cheeks are red hot, reacting to your close proximity. “Was it a spike in your libido?”

God.

“No, shut up!” You smack his chest and glance down the hall towards the back door. The pool isn’t in your line of vision, but just knowing what lurks there gets your blood pumping. “This is going to sound crazy, but I need you to keep an open mind.”

He bobs his brows. “For you? Always.”

After an exhale, you gather your composure, and tell Denki everything with as much eloquence as you can muster.

“There’s something living in the pool!” You bark out, erratic. “It’s big and it has zero impulse control and it’s rude! It talks! When it touches me, my skin glows. Then it tried to kiss me, Kaminari! And it’s rude!” You add that in again, because you cannot stress it enough. Hitoshi Shinsou is as unrefined as a piece of driftwood, and he had the audacity to make comments on behalf of your decorum. “It won’t tell me what it’s doing here, either. I offered to get it back into the ocean, but it said it wanted something else, but it won’t tell me what, and I don’t know what to do!”

Denki blinks rapidly, like his eyelashes are repelling every word you toss at him. There’s a beat, he swallows, then his lips tilt up into a knowing grin.

“Alright,” he says, “I see you.”

“You do?” Maybe you had to give Denki a little more credit. That hadn’t been your best description of a nightmare scenario.

“Sure do, little lady. This is some kinda belated birthday prank, huh? Thought you could slide one past me when I was least expecting it! I was thinking that maybe you just forgot about it, but now you’ve got something up your sleeve, don’t ya! Well cutie, I might be dumb, but I’m not stupid!”

Striding into the house, Denki places the shakes and burger bag onto Shuzenji’s kitchen counter. Shoulders deflating, you follow him while he fishes a few fries out of the bag. If he doesn’t get it now, he will soon enough.

“What could it be?” He ponders, tossing a fry into his mouth. He nods towards one of the cups and mumbles about a shake for you, then towards the back door. “Couldn’t be a party—it’s too early for a party. And you don’t talk to many people…”

Ignoring the slight burn, you front Denki, and extend your hand out to his. His eyes widen for a moment, he wipes his hand on his pants, and takes yours.

“I need your help, Denki. Seriously.”

“Yeah,” he says, a touch more reformative. “Okay.”

What should’ve been some grand reveal, however, turned out to be anything but.

The pool being clean is the first thing you notice, as absurd as that is. It’s now half-filled, with only sprinkles of algae leftover by some miraculous clean-up. There’s no more silver fish swimming around, and all the trash that had previously taken sanctuary in the pool now lays on a mountainous pile with the bra sitting at its peak. Your guest is no longer in the pool—the very clean pool.

Denki chuckles and says, “well, this doesn’t look bad at all. By how hysterical you were on the phone, I was expecting something much worse. Oh! Hello!”

Your jaw drops as Denki waves at Hitoshi—a very comfortable-looking Hitoshi who lounges on one of the reclining pool chairs, head turned back like he’s sun bathing, one leg crossed over the goddamn other. Legs. Attached to feet—feet that definitely were not there when you’d met him.

Tricky, magic fish-man.

“Oh,” Hitoshi says, carefully considering Denki. “We have company?”

The ‘we’ in his statement doesn’t sit right with you anymore than his appearance does. He stands, and both you and Denki gasp when you see his new outfit in its entirety. It’s all royal blue, fine silks, and sheer fabric that only covers the places that would make Denki blush. Puffy, yet flowing sleeves connect to his now two golden cuffs. A heavy gold necklace hangs around him, and he’s got a light sash thrown around mostly his bare chest. A golden, v-shaped belt holds his deep blue harem pants up.

They are the gaudiest goddamn pajamas you’ve ever seen.

Hitoshi moves like water to face Denki, then firmly grasps him by the forearm, yanking the boy forward so that their lips are mere inches away from each other. Noting that there’s no glowing from their contact, you watch as Hitoshi’s indigo eyes slide from Denki’s lips, to you, and shows off a dubious glint.

“Whoops,” Hitoshi murmurs basically into Denki’s mouth. “I almost forgot that you don’t greet people like this here.” He takes a step away and smirks. “Forgive me. I’m Hitoshi Shinsou. You must be the pool guy.”

“Um, yeah. ‘M Denki Kaminari.” Denki laughs nervously. His cheeks burn red, and he keeps shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Grabbing onto your hand tightly, he starts back towards the house, towing you along, saying, “excuse us, we just have to—uh. Talk.”

In a tick, you’re whisked right back inside, in the land of private conversations.

“It didn’t look like that before, Denki. I swear to god.” You’re insisting as soon as the door is closed.

“It?!” Denki balks, his cheeks turning even more red. “Do you mean the pool or that hunk of a man hanging around your backyard?!”

“Both, I guess, but I wouldn’t call it a man! It had a giant purple tail before you showed up!!”

“That’s very rude, y’know.” Denki peers back at Hitoshi who’s lackadaisically cleaning his fingertips. “What are their pronouns?”

You imagine Hitoshi surrounded by others like him, all either screaming or clicking to communicate with each other in an inhuman language. “I don’t think pronouns matter wherever it’s from!”

“Hmm.” Denki slides the door open and pops his head out. “‘Scuse me, Hitoshi, what are your pronouns?”

Without missing a beat, Hitoshi answers him. “As in titles? You can call me Shinsou, but if you’re so inclined, I’ll allow you to call me lord.”

“Lord, of course.” More nervous laughter as Denki closes the door. “Lord. That’s a kink thing, right? It’s gotta be!”

“It’s not!” You bark, but Denki doesn’t hear you. Instead, he rushes towards one of the hall mirrors and begins fussing over his hair.

“I honestly can’t believe you did this. I mean, you, of all people. You’re braver than I gave you credit for. Coulda given me a heads up, though. I would’ve worn somethin’ nice. Or not come at all. I do feel like I’m intruding.” Denki’s eyes light up. “Unless this is for my birthday and you’re…you want me to join you?”

“You’ve lost me.” You're too busy trying to figure out what you can do to convince Denki that Hitoshi is a mermaid. You’ve considered pushing him back into the pool, but you don’t know if that would change him back to his sea-man state, or just make you look like a jackass.

“This is so weird. I haven’t seen that guy on the island before, and believe me, I know everybody. It must’ve cost a pretty penny to get him here. On top of everything else-“ He clears his throat- “how much is this costing you? Does Shuzenji know what you get up to while she’s away?”

It hits you like a freight train. “Oh, Kaminari…No…”

“The jig is up!” Denki stomps his foot defiantly and points towards the door. “You’re paying that man for sex!”

“God no!” The very idea that you’ve paid Hitoshi to be here, to touch you, flusters the hell out of you. If anything, you’d pay for him to leave. “You’d honestly think I’d hire a prostitute?!”

“Escort is the term they are using nowadays, and no, I wouldn’t think you’d hire an escort until now!” Denki scoffs, then moves his hand through his hair, exasperated. “The thing is, babe, you don’t need to. You’re cute and fun! If you got out every once in a while…”

“Fish!” You yell, cutting him off, because you’re not about to have another conversation about your hermit lifestyle. “He’s a fish, Denki! I didn’t fuck a fish! Nor am I planning to!”

Denki blinks at you. Not like before—not like he’s reflecting your words. This blink is more like a blink one would offer someone who’d been having an otherwise normal conversation, until they started talking about the earth being flat, or homosexuals burning in a lake of fire.

I’m not crazy, you think and will Denki to believe. I’ll prove it.

Before you can give Denki a play-by-play of what happened—properly this time, and not just your rambled recall—the door slides open, and Hitoshi steps in.

“May I enter?” The regal-looking man asks.

At the exact same moment you say, “no,” Denki says, “of course.”

“I was just hoping to find something to eat.” Hitoshi stops in the kitchen, arms crossed and expectant.

“You haven’t fed your hooker?” Denki whispers and it blows your mind that he can say hooker and you can’t say prostitute. “You can have half my burger!”

“Burger,” Hitoshi repeats the unfamiliar word, and looks around, probably wondering what it could be. Denki takes the hint and proceeds to fish his meal out of the bag. Overly familiar with Shuzenji’s kitchen, he finds a knife to cut the sandwich in two, then hands one half to Hitoshi.

Hitoshi frowns.

“I’m sorry, are you a vegetarian?” Denki asks, and you can tell he’s being overly hospitable in a house that is not his. When Hitoshi doesn’t answer him, but doesn’t stop frowning, Denki asks, “do you not eat meat?”

“This is meat?” Asks Hitoshi, shaking the burger in the air. Some mayonnaise-covered lettuce falls to the kitchen floor.

“I have to clean that!” You yip and wet a paper towel. When you’re on your knees, Hitoshi gives you a smirk of indifference.

“What, do you not have hamburgers where you’re from?” Denki asks, and when Hitoshi refuses to answer him again, he says, “the meat is the patty. It’s beef.”

“Beef.” Hitoshi begins dissecting the thing, throwing the bun halves, pickles, tomato, and lettuce all on the floor. You continue to curse at him while he sniffs at the patty. “What animal is this?”

“Beef is cow, dude.” Denki sounds more skeptical now, which you’d be grateful for if you weren’t already on your hands and knees, scrubbing ketchup out of the tile. “Man, throwing food on the floor is rude no matter where you’re from. Babe, you shouldn’t have to clean that up.”

“If I don’t, who will?” You ask, sardonic.

“There’s not really a floor where I’m from,” Hitoshi says once he swallows his first bite. He places the patty back onto the burger wrap, and steps away from his mess. “At least, there’s no floor when it’s meal time. We just let shells and bones float around until they go down to where they’ll eventually break down and decay.”

Denki asks, “where did you say you were from?”

“He’s a fish, Denki.”

“I didn’t.” Hitoshi gets down on his knees with a wetted paper towel of his own. He swipes at the places you’ve missed, then looks at you. “Tell me, would a not-good person clean up a mess that isn't their own?”

“It’s kind of my job,” you retort and stand so Hitoshi can finish cleaning. Instead, he stands with you.

“And what is his job?” Hitoshi nods towards Denki who looks more and more fretful by the second. “I assume he’s here to provide services. If you’re paying him, shouldn’t he be the one to clean for you? Prepare meals for you? Bend to your whims?”

Denki says, “I’ve got a couple jobs, but I’m not a housekeeper, no.”

“No?” Hitoshi gives out a terse laugh and hands the towel off to Denki. “Clean.”

Denki looks to you for an explanation. You’re about to chew Hitoshi out, when he again says, “clean,” but this time, there’s something attached to his voice. Something that is nothing, but also more. It sends goosebumps up your arms and compels Denki to fall to the floor and obey the command.

“Yes, my lord.” When Denki finishes cleaning and throws the rest of the mess in the bin, he looks at Hitoshi, eyes glossy, waiting.

“Fetch me some water,” says Hitoshi, and after another yes, my lord, Denki begins searching for a glass.

“Quit it!” You shout and very nearly grab on to Hitoshi’s arm, stopping only when you remember the glow and the prickles that accompany his touch. Decidedly, you hurry after Denki and grab the glass from his hands and snap your fingers in front of his face.

Denki blinks, and this time it’s not because he doesn’t hear you, and it’s not because you’re spouting crazy nonsense. He blinks, and it’s a revelation.

“Hypnosis!” Denki says the word like eureka! and you want to shake him, because he should be angrier than he seems.

“I’m surprised you understand or even remember that much,” Hitoshi drawls. “You’re more in-tune than you’d like people to believe.”

And I’m Mother Teresa, you think bitterly. The fish is contemptuous as hell, but he doesn’t read people well. To him, you’re good and apparently Denki’s a genius.

“How did you do that?” Denki asks with growing excitement. “When I was a kid, I was really into magic, but could never get any of the tricks right. You didn’t use any triggering noises or images or anything.”

“There is a bit of magic about you,” Hitoshi says like he’s thinking out loud. “Not enough to pull something like what I just did off unless you have the proper tide jewel. But you do have enough power to utilize a tide jewel.”

“Don’t do that again,” you warn, and pour water from the sink into the glass. There’s purified water in the fridge, but Hitoshi hasn’t earned it. “To Kaminari or to me. The difference between a house guest and a home-invader is who does and does not use hypnosis on other guests.”

“I wasn’t aware that hypnosis is a common occurrence in your residence.” Hitoshi reaches for the glass, but you hold it away from him. Casting out a withering look, he says, “I wouldn’t be able to hypnotize him again, even if I wanted to. Not for a while, anyways. Not without my tide jewel.”

“What’s a tide jewel?” Denki asks. “Is that, like, sea glass?”

Eyes flicking from the glass of water, to Denki, then to you, Hitoshi says, “he knows how to ask a question.”

The questions that you ask get ignored! But instead of saying that, you continue to withhold the water, and say, “then answer him.”

Mildly peeved, Hitoshi turns his attention back to Denki. “You say you have a couple of jobs. What would they be?”

“That’s not answering his question,” you mutter.

“I’ll decide whether I should answer him in a moment. Denki, if you will.”

“Oh, well…” The sheepish Denki brings his hand to the back of his neck, blushing slightly. “I’ve got the PoolPros gig, and sometimes I pick shifts up at The Salty Barrel. I sort of got an affinity for making drinks…and cooking…and fixing things, so they like to keep me around.”

Unamused, Hitoshi pries. “Anything else?”

“Sometimes I pick up odd jobs. Fishing and delivery. I guess I’m pretty dependable because of the boat.”

This catches Hitoshi’s attention. “You have a boat?”

“Sure, yeah. It’s nothin’ too special yet. I’ve been working on it, and it’s coming along, but it’s not ready for what it’s truly intended for.”

“Which would be?”

Denki looks at you and winks, making your ears warm. You know exactly why he got the boat.

“Romantic rendezvous.”

“I see,” Hitoshi says pensively. Then, his eyes go sharp when he notices you fiddling with the ties on your shorts. “Are you two mates?”

Denki lifts a conspiratorial brow towards you, before throwing his arm around your shoulders, pulling you against his body. “Sure, yeah—we’re mates!”

You push away from him, and bite, “not those kinds of mates.”

Although nobody disagrees with you, you sense Denki sulking.

“Ah,” Shinsou muses. “You haven’t yet fought for her hand?”

Before you can groan at the idea, Denki laughs quietly, but his laughter quickly grows uproariously as he considers the idea. Soon, he’s gripping his stomach to stop himself from doubling over. You glare at his feet.

“As if there’s another guy to fight for her,” Denki bellows, wiping a tear away from his eye. “Maybe if she ever went out, but for now, the only person I gotta fight for her hand, is her!”

“Oh, I understand,” Shinsou says, eyes on you. “A battle to assert domination.”

Denki hoots loudly at the idea. “Looks like I’m screwed!”

To your growing agitation and embarrassment, Denki continues to laugh. It’s as if you’re not constantly shooting him down. You’re not pitiful. Not helpless. And you think you’d have some game if you put your heart into it. You just have a type, and the pool guy just doesn’t fit the bill, whether he’s handy or not.

There’s no humor to be found in Hitoshi’s eyes, though. He’s glaring at you, like before, only now he’s looking at you more like you’re a piece of meat—like he’s some kind of predator and you’re his newfound prey. You inadvertently step closer to Denki, as if he could be used as some sort of defense shield, then elbow him in the ribs, pretending that you’re not at all intimidated by this fish-turned-man.

“Nobody’s fighting anybody,” you say, keeping eye-contact with Hitoshi. You’ve been told before that the fact that you’re never the first to look away is a little off-putting. Hoping to have the same uncomfortable effect on your guest, you don’t even blink when you say, “I just have my eyes on someone special.”

At the same time Denki stops his laughing, Hitoshi narrows his eyes—not out of malice, but what seems to be curiosity. That’s as far as you’ll go with revealing any more personal information. You might not be physically spoken for, yet, but at least you’re emotionally unavailable. You vaguely wonder if those kinds of ideals are acknowledged by sea people.

“Yeah, Kiri,” Denki says with a roll of his eyes. So much for keeping things personal. “He’s not interested in dating anyone, though. In fact, he’s pretty much married to the ocean.”

“At least there aren’t other girls,” you say, and with a quick glance at Denki, you add, “or boys.”

Denki exaggerates a woeful, hand-over-forehead pose and cries, “at least we have each other!” Then, he places his hand back around your shoulders. Again, you scoot away from him, and this time, you catch Hitoshi’s lips quirk up, just a bit.

“Alright,” Hitoshi says. “I’ve decided.”

“Decided what?” You ask.

“That the two of you are going to help me.”

The fish-man moves to flatten the burger wrap down on the counter like a map, and proceeds to decimate the other half of Denki’s burger. Denki says, “oh that’s fine…I wasn’t that hungry anyways.”

“Help you with what!” You bark, practically starving for details. Despite Hitoshi and all that he’s done, your interest is piqued, and you feel as though you’re finally going to get to the meat of his situation.

Lining a few fries on the paper wrap, Hitoshi finally says, “a few of my worldly possessions have been stolen from me. They’ve been missing for quite a long time now, and I now plan to take them back. Four of the six items happen to be tide jewels. I figure those will be the easiest to locate and extract.”

Denki snaps his finger. “Tide jewels! That’s what we were talking about! What are those?

Dabbing his pinky into some mustard, Hitoshi says, “artistry…” He dips his ring finger into the ketchup and says, “reign…” he tears a piece of lettuce in half and says, “tide…” and finally, he rips some of the patty and says, “soul.”

“Artistry, reign, tide, soul,” Denki repeats, peeking over Hitoshi’s shoulder. “You don’t happen to be a musician, do you? A magician musician!”

“I’m a connoisseur, but not a practitioner.” Hitoshi breathes. “And you’re too close to me.”

“Well, you’re certainly not an artist,” Denki huffs, taking a few steps back. You move in to see what Denki saw.

On the wrap, the French fries have been warped to look like some sort of three-pronged fork. On the left prong, there’s a dab of ketchup, in the center, mustard, and the right has a piece of lettuce sitting on it. Connecting the three prongs is the bit of hamburger meat Hitoshi had ripped.

“Is this supposed to be a fork or a trident?” You ask, then kick yourself, because it’s obviously a trident. Duh. Mermaids. “Is that one of the things that have been stolen? A trident?”

Hitoshi says, “yes. All four of the tide jewels connect to the trident. With them, the trident could very well be one of the most powerful blessed objects on this planet. If it falls into the wrong hands, the results could be catastrophic.”

“Now, hang on,” Denki begins, brows curved into a frown. “What?”

“So good at questions,” you murmur.

“Each tide jewel has its own magical property. The names speak for themselves, but since the two of you are a little slow on the uptake, I’ll explain.” Hitoshi points at each different spot on his fries-trident, explaining what each point represents.

“The yellow jewel is for artistry and skill. Whoever wields it, whether in its natural form or attached to another object, will learn trades quickly, can craft almost anything at a master’s level, and they’ll have a more creative way of thinking.”

“The red jewel is for reign and rule. Whoever wields this can command any audience. Wars have been fought, kingdoms taken, and women stolen by the power of this gem. It’s almost the most violent of the four, but it can also be used to keep peace.”

“The blue jewel is for the tide. They used to be two jewels, one for tide-ebbing, the other for tide-flowing, but they’ve been molded together after another theft mishap. With the power of this jewel, one would be able to control not only the water of the sea, but water itself. This gem can create storms you couldn’t dream of. This is possibly the most dangerous stone if placed into the wrong hands.”

“Sir, that’s a piece of lettuce,” Denki says.

“Your burger didn’t have anything blue,” Hitoshi growls, “nor did it have anything purple, which brings me to the last jewel. This would be the soul jewel. It aids people with wishes, can offer good dreams, and can allow the wielder to see people’s auras, or souls. This jewel has stopped many malevolent unions in the past.”

Finally, Hitoshi turns back to you and Denki. There’s nothing content about his expression now. If anything, he looks grave.

“The fact that the trident is not in my possession has already had a cataclysmic influence on the world you know now. I need it, and the jewels, or else there may be dire consequences.”

Throat dry, palms sweaty, you swallow thickly, and allow yourself a moment to process all that he’s saying. It may be idiotic, but you believe him. Maybe if you hadn’t seen him in the water earlier, things would be different. You’d be more skeptical. But since you’ve already seen one impossible thing today—two if you're counting the fact that Hitoshi grew legs and magically poofed himself an outfit—you don’t think he’s lying.

However, Denki did not see him in the water. Which is why he’s the first to speak.

“Right,” he says, looking down on you. “Sorry, babe, but the marvel universe did it first with Thanos and his gauntlet. If this is supposed to be a scavenger hunt of some kind, can we skip the game, hints and all, and get to the dinner? I expect there’ll be candles and such for nighttime, so maybe you and I can hang out at the beach, sans the mean magician?” Denki looks at Hitoshi. “No offense, buddy. You could join us if you cheer up a bit. I’d never say no to a threesome with two equally attractive people.”

The water in the glass you’re holding begins to shake. It shakes, and then it moves, and then it lifts up into the air, snaking around like a gelatinous worm, and slowly makes its away to Hitoshi’s mouth. Never before have you seen anyone swallow menacingly, and this has changed it.

“I am not your buddy,” Hitoshi hisses between his teeth, “and this is not a game.”

“He just…” Denki begins stuttering. This isn’t something he can chock up to something as mundane as a magic trick. This is pure magic, and you feel less like a giant dork for how you reacted to Hitoshi showing himself to you, with how distraught Denki seems to be.

“I told you,” you say under your breath, “he’s a fish!”

“I am Hitoshi Shinsou. I am one of Ryūjin, and you will not desecrate my name or my people by belittling me or my power.” It hadn’t occurred to you until now that he’s not only speaking to Denki, but to both of you. The thought makes you shift with unease as Hitoshi’s eyes slide from your friend to you. “Not without consequences. I’ve been burdened with this purpose, and the two of you can choose to help me and reap the rewards that follow, or you can return to your miserable lives, loligagging and ogling the things you know you want, but are too lazy to obtain.”

At this moment, Hitoshi Shinsou seems ancient to you. Trepidation crawls up your spine, chilling you to the bone. You regret most of what you’ve said to him, even the things you’d thought he deserved. You have an inkling that if Hitoshi really wanted to harm you, or Denki, he would. Easily.

“Okay, well-“ Denki, again speaks first, thank god. “You didn’t say there would be rewards.”

Maybe don’t thank god yet. But before you can apologize on Denki’s behalf, the air that you hadn’t realized had got heavier, thicker even, lifts, and Hitoshi eases up, lackadaisical smirk back on track.

“You both wish for something,” he says. “If you help me retrieve what’s rightfully mine, I will graciously return the favor by granting your wishes.”

“We do?” Denki asks. It’s wild to you how easily he could jump back into conversation like this, although, when you look closely at him, you can see that he’s trembling faintly. “What do I want?”

“You wish for a boat,” Hitoshi says, “so I will give you a boat.”

“I have a boat.”

“I’ll give you a better boat.” Hitoshi seems to be enjoying himself now, even going so far as to lean on the table, picturing exactly what he’s describing. “A captivating boat that both women and men find irresistible. It will sail smoother and faster than the other vessels out on sea. You will never want or need for an upgrade for it will never wear or tear.”

“A super boat,” Denki muses, beguiled by the idea. It’s your turn to be skeptical now, because you haven’t wished for anything. At least, not aloud for Hitoshi to hear.

“Then, what do I get?” You ask, arms crossed. You can admit that you’re interested in what he might have to say.

“Oh darlin’, that’s easy,” Hitoshi purrs, and moves from the counter over to you. Slowly, like he’s savoring your anticipation. Lifting a finger to your arm, he slides it across your skin, watching as both the glow and the tingles return. You have to hold your breath to yourself from sighing.

“You want to be loved,” he says, “adored even. And not just by anybody. You want to be with your soulmate, isn’t that right. That may be why you came to this island to begin with.”

There’s no way he could’ve known that you’re new to the island. Nobody said anything about it. But he’s not wrong. Though you can’t say he’s right either. You came to the island in hopes to find…yourself. And though you haven’t yet found yourself, you sure as hell found Kirishima. And soulmate has a nice right to it.

“So if we help you find these gems—“

“—tide jewels,” he intervenes.

“Tide jewels-“ you roll your eyes- “then you will give Denki a super boat, and you will unite me with a soulmate?”

“Exactly,” Hitoshi confirms. “Easy peesy, isn’t it?”

“How do we know you’ll uphold your end of the bargain?” Denki asks, finally out of his super boat daydreams.

“I said you were good with questions.” Hitoshi smirks. “You don’t know. You can’t know. But you can either do this with me, and probably get a super boat and a soulmate out of it, or you can not, and get nothing.”

Denki side-eyes you, and you him. You hold each other’s gazes for a brief moment, and you already know how this would play out if you refuse. Denki would convince you to do it. You don’t do anything, he says with his eyes. Might as well hang around and see how this plays out.

“Fine.” Even though your good conscience screams at you to do otherwise, you let up. “We’ll help you.”

“Excellent.” Hitoshi beams, or at least, he beams in a way only someone who was just threatening two other people can beam. “Then we should start our search today. We’ll probably need to go into town and see if there are any supernatural occurrences or old folktales to check out.”

Going out to town is the last thing you’d planned on doing today. Or maybe the second to last thing you planned on doing. You have to ask, because if you don’t, you’ll go batsy.

“We won’t be getting wet, will we?”

Hitoshi scoffs, which isn’t an answer. Maybe you really don’t ask the right questions because when Denki asks, “you said there were six things you need to retrieve. What’s the sixth thing?” Hitoshi winks at you, and grins. And when he grins, your stomach aches.

#bnha x reader #bnha reader insert #reader insert #mha x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinsou x reader #bnha imagines #mermaid!shinsou x reader #bnha mermaids #trident tale #tt

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talesofarcadia78 · 3 years

Text

Beneath the Stars || Douxie x Reader || One Shot

The soft sound of plucking of guitar strings filled your ears. It made your heart melt and feel warm inside, making you forget the cold. Your boyfriend started softly singing a song. He suddenly stopped playing, making you frown and turn your head towards him.

“Why’d you stop?” you asked, closing up the book you were reading.

“Well, I noticed what the time was and saw it’s nearly 6,” he said, gesturing to the clock on the wall behind him.

“So?” you asked, still confused.

“Remember, you promised me something…” he hinted.

You looked at him blankly.

“You promised me you would make me hot chocolate with marshmallows,” he said.

“Oh! Sorry Doux, I forgot about that,” you apologised, getting up from the couch and heading to the kitchen.

You grabbed a mug from the drawer, placing it on a counter. You then got sugar, and added 2 tablespoons of it. You walked over to the pantry and tried to get the cocoa powder, but it was on the top shelf. You weren’t that tall, so you struggled a bit. You felt a hand brush yours. You turned around to see Douxie grabbing it for you.

“I could’ve just grabbed it myself, you know?” you said, crossing your arms.

“But it would’ve taken you longer, so that would delay your making of my drink, which means I would have to wait longer,” Douxie whined, handing you the cocoa powder.

You rolled your eyes at his whining. He had to learn to be patient… well, at least for his food.

You continued to make Douxie’s hot chocolate. You felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist as you were mixing the sugar, cocoa powder and milk. Douxie put his chin on your shoulder as he whispered into your ear, “How much longer do I have do I have to wait? You know I’m hungry.”

“Well, if you let me go to the microwave, I can heat up your drink and then you’ll be able to drink it,” you replied.

“But I love doing this!” Douxie whined.

You chuckled at him. Even though he was a bit impatient with his food, you loved his whining. You gently pushed him back and walked to the microwave, putting the mug inside and turning it on. You walked back over to the counter to clean up your mess.

As you were cleaning up, Douxie was leaning over the other side of the counter, staring at you. He never took his eyes off of you. You noticed his staring from the corner of your eye. You blushed a little and giggled.

“Why are you staring at me, Douxie? Do I have something on my face?” you asked.

He shook his head, eyes still on you.

“Then?” you asked.

“You’re just… so amazing. I’m very lucky to have you,” Douxie expressed.

“I’m flattered,” you said, walking over to the microwave and getting out the mug.

You set the mug onto the counter and grabbed a bag of marshmallows, and plopped a few in. You handed Douxie the mug, putting the marshmallows away. You then looked at the time, it was 6:30. You had to get going or else your roomie, Zoe, would freak out.

“Doux, I go to go,” you shouted, grabbing your bag and opening the door of his apartment.

“Wait!” he shouted, running to you.

“What? You know Zoe will freak out if I’m not back soon,” you reminded.

“I know, I know. I’ll be at your door tomorrow at 9 a.m. sharp. So you better be ready and have your things packed,” Douxie explained.

“Why?” you asked, wondering why he wanted to you to have your bag packed.

“It’s a surprise and surprises aren’t supposed to be told,” he said.

“But--” you started, but were cut off by a kiss.

The kiss wasn’t as long as Douxie wanted. You pulled back and smiled at him.

“Sorry, but I gotta pack and Zoe might be having a heart attack right now,” you apologised.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, my love,” Douxie said, giving you a two-finger salute.

You laughed at his gesture and walked out the door.

As you were walking through the streets, you noticed a bunch of kids gathered around something. You went over to check out what it was. You looked at what everyone was looking at. It was Toby doing some magic tricks. Currently, he was holding a sock in his hand and saying some words, you didn’t quite hear, and then the sock disappeared. Everybody started clapping at his trick. You were impressed. He actually pulled off a magic trick, unlike the other times.

You walked away and continued making your way to your apartment. As you continued, you felt a bit more colder than earlier. You hugged your arms and quickened your pace.

You were about to open the door to your apartment, but someone from inside already did.

“Y/N! Where were you? I was worried sick! You know I don’t like you staying outside after dark!” Zoe scolded.

“Sorry, Zoe. I got hung up. I was making Douxie some hot chocolate,” you apologised. “And you know that you could’ve just called to check where I was.”

“I did! I called you 10 times!” Zoe exclaimed.

You checked your phone to see 10 missed calls from Zoe.

Oops.

“My phone must’ve been on silent,” you shrugged, walking in.

Zoe closed the door and plopped onto the couch, turning on the TV. You put your bag away and sat on the couch with Zoe.

“What are you gonna watch?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” she replied blandly.

She then turned off the TV and turned to you.

“So? What do you want for dinner? We’ve got some left over lasagne. Or we can just order something,” Zoe asked.

“I’ll have the left over the lasagne, you can order something for yourself. I’ve got to pack,” you replied, getting up and walking into the kitchen.

You warmed up the lasagne and quickly ate it.

“Woah! Hold up. Pack? Where are you going?” Zoe questioned.

“I actually don’t know where I’m going. Douxie just said to pack my bag and that he’ll be at the door at 9 tomorrow,” you answered.

Zoe smirked.

“Are you two going on a little lovey dovey holiday by yourselves?” Zoe teased.

“Zoe!” you groaned and rushed into your and Zoe’s room, wanting to avoid her and start packing.

You heard a laugh but you didn’t say anything, you just wanted to pack and go to bed.

After about half an hour, you zipped up your duffle bag and put it at the door of the room.

Crash!

Uh-oh! You rushed out to the kitchen to see broken glass all of the floor. Zoe was standing there, her hands behind her back, as if she didn’t do anything.

“Zoe, how did this happen?” you asked, grabbing a broom and cleaning up the mess.

“I was just tryna practice my magic… but, it didn’t go so well,” Zoe admitted, helping you.

“Next time, go somewhere where you won’t break anything,” you advised her.

“I will,” Zoe said.

“Ok, I’m heading off to bed. I’m beat,” you said, walking into your and Zoe’s bedroom and jumped in, not bothering to change.

The light got turned off. You looked to see Zoe heading over to her bed as well. You wished each other goodnight and fell asleep, well at least Zoe did. You couldn’t stop thinking about what Douxie’s surprise was.

The next morning, you were ready and drinking f/d on the couch. You heard the bell ring and hurried up to open the door. You opened the door to be greeted by Douxie, a big smile on his face.

“Ready to go, love? I don’t want us to be late,” Douxie asked.

“Yup, just let me get my phone and bag,” you said, rushing to get your things.

“Okay, got everything. Let’s go,” you said, walking out the door.

Douxie put your bag in the back seat of his car, where his bag and a whole bunch of random stuff was. You sat at the front of the car, waiting for Douxie.

“So, where are we going?” you asked, trying to find out where you were going.

“As I said yesterday, it’s a surprise and surprises aren’t supposed to be told,” Douxie repeated, driving away from Arcadia.

“Pleeeeeeease,” you begged.

Douxie shook his head. You groaned and looked out the window, gazing at the scenery.

“You can listen to whatever music you want,” Douxie suggested, giving you his phone.

You smiled and put on some music.

The two of you enjoyed the drive, singing and telling each other jokes.

It was around 1 when Douxie stopped the car at a diner on the side of the road. The two of you headed in and sat at a table, ordering two sandwiches and two milkshakes.

“How much longer until we get to this mystery place?” you asked.

“We’ll get there just before sunset, I think. We’ll have enough time to explore the place,” Douxie replied.

The two of you chatted as you ate your food. You two spent a bit too much time at the diner, so the two of you rushed to the counter to pay. You pulled out your card, Douxie doing the same. “So, you guys splitting the bill or is just one paying?” the clerk asked.

“I’m paying,” both of you replied.

The both of you turned to face each other.

“No, y/n, I’m paying for this whole trip. Not you,” Douxie said.

“Oh, no, no, no! You’re not paying. I’m the one who’s going to pay since you’re already taking me to who-knows where,” you argued.

Then you quickly tapped your card onto the eftpos machine, paying for the food.

You smiled at Douxie, who gave you a frown. The two of you left the diner and continued the journey to the place Douxie was taking you. The drive was silent, no chatting, no music. You started to get worried if you had upset Douxie by paying.

“Doux, you okay?” you asked.

He just nodded at you.

“Are you upset about the bill?” you suddenly asked.

“What? No, I’m just hoping that we get there before sunset,” he explained.

After 3 more hours of driving, you had a arrived at the place. There was a beautiful lake in front of you, surrounded by pine trees. In the distance, you saw mountains that looked like it had recently snowed. You got out of the car and saw a bunch of cabins in front of you. Douxie got out of the car and handed you your duffle bag. The two of you headed to a slightly bigger cabin where a lady was at the reception typing away.

“Hey, Margaret!” Douxie greeted the lady.

“Hello, Douxie! I have your cabin keys ready to go. You and your lovely lady are in cabin 919. It’ll be easy to spot out,” Margaret said, handing Douxie a key.

Douxie thanked her and the both of you headed to find cabin 919.

After going around the woods for a few minutes, you spotted a cabin that had a sign that wrote 919. Margaret was right, it was easy to spot out.

“Hey, is it just a coincidence or did Margaret give us the cabin that was the same age as you?” you asked, putting the key into the key hole and opening the door.

You stepped inside, taking in the cabin. In front of you were two couches, one shaped like an L. In front of the couches was a fireplace and a large TV above. Next to it was a small kitchen and a dining table. You walked around and saw a door that led into the bedroom.

The bedroom was not to big or not to small. It was just right. It felt cozy and smelled like rosewood. To the right, there was a queen sized bed, with a bunch of pillows, pastel green and pink with a few plain white pillows. There were two armchairs in front of the bed, surrounding a round glass coffee table. At the back of the room was another fireplace. On each side of the fireplace were two big windows that almost went to the floor. Dangling above the bed was a chandelier with individual cone shaped lights that sat on a wooden ring. Overall, the bedroom was beautiful.

You walked outside the bedroom to see another door in front of the bedroom, which probably would be the bathroom. You walked in to see Douxie taking out his toiletries and placing them on a shelf.

“So, did you like it?” he asked, placing the last of his stuff on the shelf and walking over to you.

“I don’t like it...” you started, seeing Douxie frown, “I love it!”

Douxie playfully punched your arm, “You gave me a lil heart attack there, Y/n!”

“Well, I’ve explored the place. What do we do now?” you asked.

“I have a good idea on what we should do,” Douxie smirked.

He led you to the back, where there was an amazing view of the snow covered mountains you saw earlier. On top of that, you could see the sun disappearing at the horizon. The sky was now a mix of orange, purple, blue and pink.

“Douxie... this is so...” you stumbled, trying to look for the words, “I’m at a loss of words.”

“This place is quite breathtaking, isn’t it?” he said.

Both of you took a seat on the ground, watching the sunset.

“Wanna see a trick?” Douxie suddenly asked.

“Sure,” you replied.

Douxie transformed his watch into a bracelet, scrolled through his runes and tapped on one. He waved his hand and sky blue magic roses started forming around you. You stared at them with awe. He magicked a few birds as well.

“Douxie, where did you learn all this?” you asked as they faded.

“I’ve been learning over the years. Master Merlin taught me, but only after my nonstop begging. He only taught me how to magic the castle in Camelot, the rest I taught myself,” Douxie explained.

“Wow. Can you teach me? Please?” you requested.

“I’ll teach you tomorrow. I have plans for us for the rest of the evening,” Douxie responded, getting up and lending you a hand.

You took it and he pulled you up to your feet, only to be swept off of them by Douxie. He carried you in his arms, bridal-style.

“Doux, you know I can walk myself back into the cabin, right?” you said.

“I’m fully aware of that, but this is more fun,” he grinned, walking back into the cabin.

He set you down on the couch and plopped himself next to you.

“So, what are the plans?” you questioned.

“I’m not telling you, it a surprise. For now, you can go freshen up and get changed,” Douxie said, getting the TV remote and started to scroll through the channels.

You headed into the room and got a pair of black jeans and a black hoodie, since it was starting to get a bit chilly. You walked into the bathroom and quickly took a shower.

While you were getting freshened up, Douxie called Archie.

“Hey, Arch! How’s it going over there?” Douxie asked.

“Mostly good. Tobias here has ate most of your supply of popcorn, Jim is making pizza, Claire and Blinky are arguing over what movie to watch. Other then that, everything is cool over here. What about you?” Archie explained.

“Good, just going to--” he started when he heard someone knock on the door. "Sorry Arch, I got to go. Oh, and tell me if anything and I mean if anything goes wrong."

"Don't worry about it Douxie, you just enjoy your time with y/n," Archie reassured him.

Douxie playfully rolled his eyes and disconnected Archie. He got up from the couch and opened the door to see Margaret.

"Hey Margaret! What's up?" he asked.

"I just came here to tell you that your special requested dinner is ready. You and your lovely lady can start heading over there," Margaret said.

"Thanks Margaret!" Douxie said, as she walked away.

Soon after, you came out of the bathroom, all freshened up.

"Okay Douxie, I've freshened up, as you had requested," you said.

"Great! Just wait five minutes and we'll be out the door," Douxie said, running into the bathroom.

Exactly five minutes later, Douxie came out the bathroom. He was wearing the exact same thing as you, the only difference was that he had a plain hoodie while you had some type of pattern on the front.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

"You're the one who made me wait for five minutes."

"Oh, right."

The two of you then headed into the woods, you having no idea why. Then you reached a clearing where there were fairy lights hanging around the trees, a small round dining table in the middle. There was food already set out on the plates, making your mouth water from the aroma.

"Quick, we should probably start eating the food before it gets cold," Douxie whispered in your ear and pulled you to the table.

Douxie took out the chair for you and you sat down.

The two of you ate f/f while Douxie and you chatted away under the moonlight. While you were chewing, Douxie spoke, "Even if gravity didn't exist, I'd still be falling for you."

You choked on your food, grabbing the glass of water in front of you and gulped it all down. After calming down a little bit, you fell silent.

"What made you want to use a pick up line on me?" you suddenly asked Douxie.

"Cause I felt like it. Plus, I wanted to know how you would react," Douxie admitted. "Now, I know how you react to pick up lines."

He burst out laughing while you were groaned at him.

"Haha, very funny," you retorted.

"Okay okay. I'll stop laughing. So, you done?" he asked.

"Yep," you answered.

"Okay, 'cause we're going now," Douxie said, getting up.

You also stood up.

"I know that I'm not going to get an answer, but we are we going?" you questioned.

As you had guessed, Douxie didn't answer. He just said that it was a surprise, yet again.

After about 10 minutes of trekking, you arrived at a cliff where you could clearly see the night sky. You could even see the Milky Way. That's how far the two of you are from the city lights and pollution.

"Wow, Douxie, this is beautiful. I can see the Milky Way here," you commented, as the two of you sat down at the edge of the cliff.

"Yeah, we're that far away from the city. I always knew that you took an interest in space, especially constellations and stars," Douxie said, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"Thank you for bringing me here, Douxie. This place is amazing," you said, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Anything for you, my love," Douxie said, planting a kiss on your hair.

The two of you spent the rest of the night stargazing.

Credit: Gabby - IG: itsgabby.2021

#douxie x reader #douxie x y/n #douxie casperan x reader #hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux x y/n #hisirdoux casperan x reader #tales of arcadia #one shot #my writing #my story

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whumpurr · 3 years

Text

Adrien and Sawdust part 8

cw: non sexual nudity, brief references to past non-con, pet whump, conditioned whumpee, self harm aftermath, ear whump aftermath, bathing

masterlist

Adrien blinked, almost pulling back when Sawdust held onto his wrist. Sawdust still seemed to be a bit out of it, but the pet looked Adrien in the eye,

“M… Master, please don’t get rid of me.” He squeaked out, pleading. “Please, please, Master!”

“Huh?” Adrien looked at Sawdust, confused. The pet shifted, and tried to get down from the couch. Dropping onto his knees in front of Adrien, Sawdust trained his eyes on the ground,

“Please, Master! I’m sorry!” He cried. Adrien was confused, he wasn’t sure what Sawdust was apologizing for.

“Okay, wait, wait,” Adrien inched back away from Sawdust to give the pet some more space. “I understand that your previous uh, Master wasn’t especially good to you. I don’t want to hurt you, okay? Can you tell me what you’re sorry for?” Adrien kept his voice as soft and nonthreatening as he could. Sawdust flinched, and kept his head down, but he spoke.

“I-I’m your property and- and I damaged your property.” Sawdust whimpered.

“Hey, that’s alright, I’m not mad at you. I just would prefer you don’t uh, do that, because I don’t like seeing you hurt.” Adrien kept his hands firmly in his lap, not wanting to spook Sawdust any further. “Can you tell me why you did that?”

Sawdust fiddled with his hands, squeezing his fingers.

“I- you- my ears… I w- if you couldn’t see my second ears you- you might give me real ones back.” His voice grew quieter and quieter, and Adrien figured that he shouldn’t push him too much more.

Adrien thought for a moment on what Sawdust could’ve meant by ‘second ears’. He looked over at Sawdust, eyes tracking over his body. It all clicked into place; the false ears that were originally on top of Sawdust’s head weren’t there. Adrien had taken them off when Sawdust collapsed in the hallway.

“Oh… Oh, my god, Sawdust I’m so, so sorry. Wait here, I’ll go get your things.” Adrien was quick to turn and leave, running upstairs. He soon returned with Sawdust’s duffel bag, putting it down between him and the pet, unzipping it. “Here, here take your- anything, this is all your stuff.”

Sawdust kept hurriedly glancing between his own hands and back up at Adrien as he reached in, looking like he expected Adrien to rip the bag away at the last second. Sawdust didn’t bother searching, he just grabbed the first pair of ears that was on top of the pile, hardly even looking at them before putting them on.

“Okay, I know now that I should’ve done this way before now, but we gotta establish some ground rules.” Adrien kept his expression neutral, trying not to appear too stern, “One: you eat with me, every day. I need to see that you’re eating. Two, uh, you have to tell me if you want something. I’m not going to punish you for asking for anything. And, um… Three is that you can talk whenever you want. You won’t get punished for that either. You understand?”

Sawdust nodded his head and Adrien just had to hope that the pet actually took in what he was saying.

“Okay, right, and uh- from now on, you need to stay with me in my office while I’m working. I can’t just… I can’t let you roam around the house and risk something like this happening again.” It felt like he was taking away Sawdust’s privacy, his freedom, but he couldn’t allow the pet to injure himself again. “Those are the rules for now. If they change, I’ll tell you.”

Sawdust gave a shaky nod, bottom lip still wobbling and eyes still wet.

“Y-...” Sawdust started before falling silent. Adrien waited patiently and when Sawdust realized that he wasn’t going to be told to keep quiet, he continued, “You won’t get rid of me?”

“If you don’t want me to, no.” The words came out with a sigh. “I wouldn’t just throw you out onto the street, you know. I was talking about finding someone better for you to live with.”

“But-! But I like it h-here.” Sawdust lurched forward, “Please, Master!”

“I won’t! I won’t get rid of you or give you up, okay?”

Sated by that answer, Sawdust fell quiet once more.

“You’re covered in blood, Sawdust. We need to clean you up. And…” With a gentle, careful hand, Adrien reached out and took one of the mats in Sawdust’s hair in his fingers, “We can cut these out, if you want. Give me a second.”

Adrien stood and disappeared into the kitchen, returning and urging Sawdust to follow him, which he did. Sawdust climbed up the steps with Adrien, following him into the bathroom.

“Alright, stand up.”

Sawdust stood on his shaky, unused legs. Pets weren’t meant to walk on two legs, that was reserved for humans. Being so far from the floor made him feel unsteady, he felt like he was going to fall over. He wondered briefly if Master was making him stand just so that he could throw him down again.

“You’ve got all kinds of tangles in your hair.” Master said behind him. Sawdust glanced up into the mirror, finally seeing what Adrien had gotten from the kitchen. A pair od black handled, sharp scissors. Sawdust tensed, shoulders rising and a whine building in the back of his throat. Was Master going to take his other second ear, too?

“This might pinch a little bit, alright?” Master said. Sawdust squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that he couldn’t possibly bear watching in the mirror.

The pain he anticipated never came. All he felt were a few tugs on his hair. The cool air around him was suddenly hitting his neck. Briefly, his ears were removed and there were some tugs at the top of his head before the ears returned. Then Master put something crinkly over his hurt second ear.

“It’s a little patchy, I’m no hairdresser, but it should work for now. What do you think?”

Sawdust cracked his eyes open and looked at himself in the mirror. His shoulder length hair had been cut short, the mats that were clumped in it were gone. It felt strange, so he looked away from the mirror, slumping back down onto his knees.

“I’m going to go get some towels and stuff, come with me.” Master stepped out of the bathroom, heavy footsteps tracking around the house as he visited the small door in the hallway for some towels, then his bedroom for clothing, before coming back to the bathroom.

Next, the rushing sound of water filled the room as Master began allowing the white bath tub to fill. Sawdust didn’t quite understand what was going on. Master poured something into the tub and it began to bubble.

“We’re gonna get you all nice and clean,” Master said, rolling up his sleeves and dipping his hand into the filling tub. Sawdust stared at the bubbly water. This was for him, right? He’d never been bathed anywhere except with a quick splash from the hose outside. He waited for his master to pour bleach or something into the water before forcing him under it. Maybe that was what that bubbly stuff was. Sawdust couldn’t stop himself from whining from the stress.

“Shh, it’ll be alright. Water’s not too hot, come feel.”

Sawdust crept over next to his master and dangled his hand over the water. He froze for a moment before allowing his fingertips to dip below the surface. The water was warm and, much to his surprise, it didn’t burn or hurt. He swished his hand around in the water, looking up to his grinning Master.

“Nice, right? We can get you in there as soon as you’re ready.” Master flicked some water off his hand and stood up, “I can face this way while you get undressed.” He said, turning to face the door.

Sawdust didn’t know why exactly he was looking away. As the pet began to pull his tattered shirt over his head, he pondered. Master probably didn’t like his body anyways, it was all beat up and ugly. His pants came off next and then, hesitantly, his ears, which he set on top of the pile of clothes outside the tub. Then he kneeled outside the tub, waiting for Master’s next instructions. After a little bit, Master turned around and quickly looked away.

Master not wanting to see Sawdust hurt even more than if he did stare at him. Sawdust was at least used to people looking at him like this, he had nothing to hide anyways- pets had no dignity, after all.

“Okay, come on, let’s get you in here.” Master stood up next to the tub and offered a hand to Sawdust. Sawdust shakily put his paw in his master’s hand and climbed into the tub, trying his hardest not to tip over on his stupid mutt legs.

“That good?” Adrien asked once Sawdust got seated in the water. Sawdust contemplated for a moment before nodding slowly. Adrien took a plastic cup that he brought from the kitchen and began to scoop water into it. “I’m gonna… I’ll pour some water on your back now, okay?”

It felt like he was taking care of a child. He tried to think of it that way, it was more preferable than imagining he was bathing a dog. The soapy water cascaded down Sawdust’s back and Adrien realized that this was the first time he was seeing such expanses of his pet’s skin.

Sawdust’s back was littered with marks, many of them looked like scratches from animals, many more looked like cigarette burns. Some were newer than others. Dividing them were the mountainous peaks of his spine, nearly poking through the skin.

“I have some soap here, it smells nice, I think you’ll like it.” Adrien picks up the washcloth and adds some of the body wash. “I’m going to rub this on your back, it shouldn’t hurt, I don’t think you have any open wounds here.”

Adrien cleaned Sawdust’s back slowly and carefully, the white washcloth getting smudged with dirty brown before Adrien would dunk it into the water. By the time he was rinsing off Sawdust’s back from the soap, the pet had relaxed, chest no longer tight with held breaths, and spine no longer strung taut.

“Here,” Adrien handed the cloth to Sawdust, “I put some more soap on it, you can do the rest of your body.”

Sawdust simply held the sopping cloth in his hand, fingers curled around it like a claw. He looked up at Adrien with a confused look.

“Like- uh, like this,” Adrien made a rubbing motion over his own forearm, and Sawdust mimicked it. Gradually and slowly, Sawdust managed to wash his own body, but he looked… Out of it.

“Is something wrong, dear?” Adrien asked from where he knelt outside of the tub. Sawdust flinched and looked away. “If something’s wrong, you can tell me.”

Sawdust’s jaw was set and his whole body was all tensed up.

“Master didn’t- didn’t want to l-look at- at me,” His voice was wobbly and full of unspilled tears, “Pet is ugly.” Those words came out as a squeak, but more certain than anything else he’d said.

“Oh,” Adrien didn’t know what to say to that, “I don’t- that’s not why I didn’t look at you, I just thought you’d uh, you’d like some privacy. Trust me I don’t think that you’re ugly or anything, okay?”

Sawdust gave a warbled little ‘mmh’ in response, and Adrien wasn’t quite sure what he meant.

“Do you want me to wash your face?” Adrien held up a bottle of his own face wash, “I’ll be gentle, and next time you can do it on your own.”

Sawdust agreed and Adrien wet his hands and began washing Sawdust’s face, the pads of his thumbs gentle against his pet’s hollow, pale face. Sawdust shivered the whole time.

Adrien washed Sawdust’s hair next. He’d put some plastic wrap and extra gauze over Sawdust’s injury, so it remained relatively dry. He was as gentle as he could be with Sawdust’s hair, washing it a couple of times until the suds were white, rather than a murky gray-brown.

The rest of the bath passed in near silence, with Adrien making the occasional remark and Sawdust never truly responding. Afterwards, Adrien helped him dry off, and gave him some of his own clothing to wear for the time being. Even though the items were the smallest things he owned, they were still grossly oversized on Sawdust.

Finally, Sawdust’s ears were put back on top of his head, and Adrien tied his tail around his waist for him.

“We can go shopping tomorrow and get you some clothes and stuff.” Adrien said. “I think we should eat some breakfast- lunch? Is it lunch time? No matter, come on, I’ll get you fed.”

Sawdust moved to follow his master out of the bathroom, but he couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror. He simply stood there for a moment, looking at himself.

He was all clean. His wound was bandaged. He was wearing his master’s clothing. Pets like him didn’t deserve such things. They didn’t deserve proper grooming, but there he was with a new hair cut. It made him feel disgusting in comparison to the care that’d been given to his body.

He’d have to make it up to his master somehow.

taglist: @starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi@neuro-whump @whump-me-all-night-long @cupcakes-and-pain @whumpzone @whumpcreations @dancinglifeboat @pinkraindropsfell @looptheloup @cowboy-anon @meetmeinhellcroutons @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @firewheeesky @maracujatangerine @it-will-all-whump-out

#whump #pet whump #whump blog #whump writing #whump story #whump recovery #male whumpee #male caretaker #adrien and sawdust #whumpee #caretaker

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lilyharvord · 3 years

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I saw another anon on king mavens page ask how Cal would react if mare died and they didn’t wanna answer bcuz it’ll make them go into a depressive state. So if u don’t mind how do YOU think Cal would react if Mare died. If u don’t wanna write this u don’t hv too tho

I too saw annie's response, and while it makes me super sad to think about as well.... I've thought about it... I may have started writing a fic about it once (it was like once chapter), and I had an idea. So I'll give you my branched ideas. They're loooong so I have put them under the read more.

idea 1: Mare dies before they are married, before anything.

It's horrific. People are shocked... the little lightning girl? Dead? Impossible. Cal doesn't immediately hear about it, he's so busy he's doesn't know something's happened until he walks into a room and everyone goes quiet and slowly looks at him like he might collapse right then and there. He finds out because Farley pulls him aside. She takes him away from everyone to a quiet little garden with a fountain and tells him what happened. When he hears, he just sort of gives her this confused look, like HE doesn't understand, doesn't believe. Then he sort of sinks down onto one of the benches and just sits there. Doesn't move, doesn't even seem to be breathing. Farley thinks he'll explode in a ball of heat and rage and pain, but instead he just gets really really quiet, and really cold. The air around her gets so cold her breath fogs in front of her. He asks her to leave him alone and she does. He sort of draws into himself after that, doesn't really speak to anyone, spends a lot of time running and sitting at his desk and staring out the window. He attends the funeral but is quiet the whole time, he only speaks to the Barrows and even then, there isn't much to say that wouldn't hurt either party. After that he BURIES himself in his work. He gets so good at it that one day he looks up and ten years have passed. He's still got the stack of letters they wrote to each other, and he even has the letter he had been drafting to send to her on the front where he lost her. It ends with the phrase: I miss you. And god does that ring true. He miss her like a limb he lost. It feels like a part of him was torn away, just like with Maven, just like with his father, just like with Nanabel when she passed a few years back, just like the hole his mother left without him even knowing it was there. He visits her grave that year, just sort of sits under the little tree they planted, looks out at the mountains as the sun sets behind him, and talks to her like he does with Maven, tells her about everything that's happening. After a while, he just falls quiet and sits there, digging his hand into the grass and dirt right above the grave, like he can dig down to her, like it's her skin and he can still feel it's warmth. He swallow really heavily and then says: I never met anyone else that made me feel the way you did... I don't think I ever will. You were it. You were going to be it. And then he gets up and leaves. He runs into Gisa down in the Ascendent, they grab coffee at what was once Mare's favorite coffee shop, now it's Gisa's. They talk about everything, never mentioning Mare. Gisa only asks once if he's seen anyone, and he just shakes his head, and she gives him a tiny smile and says: she wouldn't have minded... well if a random bolt of lightning came from the heaven and struck you, then I guess you would know she minded. They laugh about that, and then he leaves cause he has an early flight home. When he gets back, he puts the letters in a box and then puts that box in a drawer. He never sees anyone else though. Doesn't even really fool around with anyone either. He tries once, and the whole time he just thinks about her, thinks about all the what if's and could be's. He apologizes profusely to the girl and says that it's not going to work. Something in her understands, some weird warmth that she gets that makes her pull him into an extra tight hug before she leaves from his little apartment in Archeon. He doesn't mind being alone as much, he has his friends and a strange little belief/hope that someday, he will see Mare again. And when he does he is going to pull her into the tightest hug and never, ever let go again.

idea 2: Mare dies after they are married and have at least 1 child

This one hurts far more. He knows she's on missions, and they made a pact to never be on missions together so that if the unthinkable happens and one of them does die, Coriane will have the other at least. Its a god awful early hour of the morning when there is knock on the door. Coriane is sleeping in his and Mare's bed, she had a nightmare and immediately came for comforting snuggles. He thinks he's dreaming when the knock comes again, a little more instant this time. He gets up, and Coriane sleepily trails after him, curious as a cat always. When he answers the door, he picks her up and is still sort of half asleep. When he sees the young soldier standing on the porch in uniform and the most pained look on his face, he is suddenly wide awake. The soldier reaches up and removes his hat before pulling out an envelope with the official Montfort seal on it. He holds it out and quietly says, "I'm sorry."

When Cal takes it, he worries that his hand is shaking, but it is perfectly still, Coriane is falling asleep on his shoulder, not even aware of the ramification of what this little envelope means. And he just sort of looks up at the man and asks, "Do the Barrows know?" The man blinks before saying, "Protocol dictates immediate family are informed first... spouses are immediate family along with children. We leave it to them to inform the rest...I'm sorry again sir." Then he gives a little clean military salute and leaves. Cal stands there for a long time looking at empty space, wondering what comes next, what he is even supposed to do. Coriane answers for him: by lightly tapping his cheek and whispering that she's cold. He closes the door, and sets the letter on the little table by the door. There are already four other letters there. One, an invitation to Farley's wedding to Cordelia at the end of the month, and another is a letter from Julian addressed to all of them, most likely about his trip with Sara to see the land north of Montfort. But there is her name in beautiful script on both envelopes. There is her favorite jacket hanging on the peg she always hangs it on. There is the book she left on the table, chaptered at the exact part she was on. There is her favorite mug in the sink because Coriane asked to drink her milk from it last night. She is everywhere in the house, and yet that letter means she will never be in it again. Those were her things. They not longer are. He carries Coriane up the stairs and puts her back in their his bed and then lays next to her, watching her chest rise and fall as she sleeps, a tiny smile creeping to her lips as she dreams, completely and blissfully unaware of how her life has fundamentally changed now. Then he rolls and stares at the ceiling, but the tears come and they don't stop as they fall silently. He gets up and showers at dawn--he didn't sleep-- and cries a little more there. He has to crouch down under the scalding water and bite down on his knuckle to keep from sobbing out loud and waking Cori. It's pitiful, and he knows it. She would be furious with him for not being honest about how he feels and trying to hide it like its some ugly thing. But it feels ugly, a twisted ugly thing in his chest that is screaming and clawing at his insides. He stands, turns the shower off, steps out, shaves, does his morning routine, and then wakes Coriane and gets her ready. She's still sleepy, doesn't understand, asks him when mommy is coming home, when she will be back so they can go to the market and get ice cream. He says they'll go today, but his voice shakes, even as he tries to hide it. Then he takes her to the Barrows, tells Ruth and Daniel to gather all of them together. When they are all sitting before him in the living room, packing it to the brim, he takes out the letter and reads it. There is a horrible silence when he finishes and folds it before putting it back in the envelope. Ruth slowly pulls Coriane toward her and then lifts her into her lap and hugs her so tightly Cori actually whines about it for a second before she sees the look on Cal's face. They all sit in the kitchen after that and Ruth makes tea and she makes hot chocolate for the kids and gives Coriane an extra 4 marshmallows. The kids leave to go play and the adults sit and discuss the logistics, where is the will, was the a will? Do they have to adhere to anything if there isn't one? Would she want to... to be buried on Tuck with Shade? The will would probably say. Should they do that if there isn't one? Ruth offers to take care of Coriane while Cal deals with everything, settling paperwork, etc. etc. Then everyone kinda starts talking about everything again, and he just sits in silence and stares at this knot on the table that Mare pointed out to him because she said it looked like a turtle on its back. He traces it a few times, just sort of thinking about that moment and all the other times they would be in this kitchen doing dishes after family gatherings etc. Farley watches him from across the table

before getting up and nodding for him to follow her outside. Everyone pretty much doesn't notice them leave, or they pretend not to notice. They sit outside on the back porch in silence, just the two of them. After a little bit, it starts to snow. The first snow of the year. Farley holds her hand out to catch the flakes and says quietly: "I hate that it doesn't rain when these things happen. It always feels like it should be raining." He nods silently in agreement, and then she sets her hand on his shoulder, and he bends forward, letting the weight of it drop his head into his hand. He doesn't cry again, he honestly doesn't understand why he feels nothing now, just emptiness, and numbness from the tips of his fingers all the way to the tips of his toes. Even with Maven he didn't feel this way. He felt something then, something biting and hot like a pan that he touched when it just came off the stove. They sit like that for a long time before Coriane comes outside, and slips underneath his arm to snuggle against him. Farley gets up and leaves then, sensing she's said her peace and he understands she's there if he needs her. He holds Coriane close when the back door closes, and she whispers quietly to him, "Mommy's not coming home, is she?" and he just squeezes her once in answer. She frowns and stares out at the snow for a second and then turns around to face him and cups his cheeks in her little hands like she had seen Mare do a hundred times when Cal was in the middle of an especially hard day. She looks at him with a very serious expression for a child and he can see Mare in her when she does that, in the crease of her brows and the slight squint in her eyes. In the hint of chocolate brown in the curls of her hair. She will be furiously beautiful like her mother, and he had a feeling someday she will break a man's heart like his is breaking now. She looks at him for a good little bit and then says, "don't worry, I will take care of you." And he laughs, knowing that Mare always said the same thing. He pulls her close again and whispers with a thick voice, "it's my job to take care of you. But it's just us now... we have to take care of each other."

The funeral is in the spring. Cal pushed it off. Mare hated the winter. Even though she had happier memories of it now, her childhood and the painful clenching of her empty belly were like a permanent stain on the season. He would not bury her in that time. When the snow thaws and the ground melts, they release her ashes on a hill and leave stone for her on a hill under a tree, with a view of the mountains. There is a long line of epithet underneath her name: beloved daughter, sister, friend, wife, mother. Staring at it, Cal wonders if she knows just how important she had become. If she knew that she wasn't just a captain, or a figurehead that brought a centuries old regime to its knees. Everyone leaves after, the Barrows going last, but Cal and Coriane stay. Cal just sitting in the grass next to the grave, the wind in his hair while he watches the mountains for a little while. Coriane sits on the grave, probably not the nicest thing to do, but she does, and traces Mare's name over and over again on the stone with her little finger. "Mommy had a long name." She says as she traces the four names on the stone. Cal hesitated to put his name on there with hers, but he adopted the Barrow name as much as Mare took the Calore one when they married. And in the very, very short will she had drafted, that he almost didn't read because reading it made everything real, she asked that he put both their names on it (but to put his name before hers and she even made a little quip at him in the will about it which made him laugh, even as it made him cry). He glances at Cori after she says that and nods. She then crawls into his lap and they sit watching the mountains before Coriane says, "Uncle Julian says that when people die, they become the dirt that feeds the trees and the grass... do you think mommy is happy to be tree food?" He laughs and hugs her really close before saying, "She's not tree food. That dust we let go of today was mommy. She's on the winds now, traveling everywhere."

He does not remarry, no matter how many years pass, and how many women try to infer that it might be for the best if Coriane had mother in her life. He thinks its a stupid notion that he can't raise his own child on his own. And its hard, god is it hard. But he does it. He makes Coriane Barrow Calore into a women that Mare Molly Calore Barrow would have been very proud of. And he holds onto the notion that someday, when he dies, and they scatter his ashes, that his will find Mare's and they'll be together again that way.

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mmvalentine · 3 years

Note

Would you mind doing random fluff oneshots for feysand, with like tonnes of fluff in them? 🥺 Just them being together and happy and maybe some with Nyx too?

Haha fluff... without smut?! What is this you speak of??? Okay let me see. Did I ever tell you about...

1. The time they finally took a weekend (baby Nyx) Feyre wakes up alone and can’t believe how much she’s slept in. She goes out to the kitchen and for a moment just stands there, watching Rhys potter around, singing softly in a language she doesn’t recognise. She didn’t know he sang, before Nyx. She steps forward and as her bare feet hit the floorboards he says without turning, “Morning, Feyre darling.”

“Morning,” she says. “Where’s-” And then Rhys turns around, spatula in one hand, and there’s Nyx bundled and bound across Rhys’ chest in a swath of soft grey fabric. “Happy day off,” he croons, and kisses her on the forehead. “How did you get him to sleep so long?” she asks, stroking her son’s little head. “I’m making him dreams of flying, so he doesn’t have to wake up and do it.” “And that’s keeping him asleep?!” Feyre asks in disbelief. “And also dinosaurs,” Rhys adds. “He’s dreaming of flying with dinosaurs.” Feyre laughs, and half way through she is interrupted by Rhys’ mouth on hers. “I’ll never get tired of seeing you laugh,” he murmurs, and kisses her again. At that moment, a letter appears on the kitchen table, and Rhys groans. “That’ll be Helion,” he says. “He’s been on my back about getting a meeting together to discuss-” “Nothing,” Feyre interjects, eyebrows raised. “You’ll be discussing nothing because today is our day off.” “I’m sorry my love,” he says, handing Nyx to her. “Just give me five minutes.” But Feyre knows what five minutes is when the high lords get going. She puts Nyx on her hip and draws herself to full height. She snatches the paper up and dictates, words appearing as she speaks. “The High Lady of the Night Court declines your invitation,” she states clearly. “The Night Court will be unavailable for the next two days, as stipulated in the previous meeting of the courts.” She fixes Rhys with a steely gaze, and the letter disappears. “Mmm,” Rhys purrs. “You’ve no idea how much I enjoy it when you take charge, High Lady.” He bends his head to run his nose along her jaw. But Feyre steps back. “Good,” she says in a clipped voice. “Then take this,” she plops Nyx back into his arms, “and this,” she conjures two already packed backs and slings them over Rhys’ shoulders like a pack mule, “and close your eyes.” Then she wraps her arms around the two of them, and winnows. They appear in the cabin in the mountains, and in Spring the whole place smells like pine and honeysuckle. Feyre has already set up the place for the perfect weekend- Rhys’ favourite books stacked next to the arm chair, Nyx’s toys in a basket on the floor, paints on the table, and best of all, wards that redirected any business letters from arriving at all.

2. The time Amren babysat (2yo Nyx) Nyx has learned to fly and has been getting into unimaginable amounts of trouble. Nothing can be placed out of reach anymore, there is no place safe from his grabbing hands and sucking mouth and tiny, sharp little teeth. So Feyre and Rhys have been chasing him around the house for a week now, trying to get work done at the same time as not letting him throw books down from the top shelf or put his mouth over candles in the chandelier or push over Rhys’ crystal decanters. They can’t even sleep- now instead of crying when he wakes up in the middle of the night, Nyx just floats into their room and drops whatever he finds onto their bed. From a height. At their faces. By the end of the week, they both look so ridiculously tired, that Amren caves. She isn’t usually one to spend one-on-one time with the baby, but everyone else is off on business and she honestly isn’t doing anything else. So she shoos them off to bed and takes the little squaller in her arms. Feyre and Rhys are too tired to even argue, they just smile gratefully and walk up the stairs like zombies. When they fall into bed, Feyre is asleep almost immediately. But Rhys curls himself around her, tucking his chin into her neck and tangling his knees with hers. He inhales at the top of her spine, and places kisses over her shoulder. Feyre doesn’t stir at all. And Rhys wants to fall asleep too, he does, gods know he needs it. But he also needs to hold Feyre for a minute and know that she isn’t going to bolt away at any second because Nyx has his fingers in the light fixtures. So he lies there, for as long as he can keep his eyes open, and trails his fingers down the cello curves of her. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, Rhys will wake up and wonder whether this is all real. Even now, he thinks that it is possible that he has gone mad, and he is actually still trapped under the mountain and his mind has created a paradise for him because he cannot endure it any longer. When he can’t see his way out, he usually buries himself in Feyre’s body, and it’s the only thing that can convince him this is real. But for now, there’s just bone-deep tiredness, and peace. So he fights his eyelids, and touches his mate’s skin, and he does not know when he falls asleep but he wakes up when Feyre is tugging out of his arms. He frowns with his eyes closed, and tightens his arms so she can’t get up. Feyre chuckles, and lets him keep her, at least for another few minutes. When they make their way downstairs, they find Amren and Nyx in the living room. Amren is poring over an ancient text with laser focus. And Nyx floats above her, with a string that has one end tied around his waist and the other tied around Amren’s wrist like a balloon. “Amren,” Feyre says in disapproval. She looks up, with no embarrassment in her silver eyes. “What?” she said. “It works.” Indeed Nyx seems perfectly happy, flying in little circles but unable to get far enough to touch anything. Rhys tips his head back, and laughs.

3. The time Rhys and Nyx made pancakes (4yo Nyx) Feyre doesn’t often get breakfast in bed, but this time was actually Nyx’s idea. He wakes Rhys up early, and the two of them steal down to the kitchen. Rhys tries to help, but Nyx wants to do everything by himself, and as a result makes an enormous mess. Rhys manages to clean most of it up by magic, but Nyx has recently decided he doesn’t like the way magic feels on his skin, so he remains covered in flour and blueberry juice. Eventually though, they make a proud albeit wonky stack of pancakes, a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, and a cup of tea. Nyx wants to carry the whole thing up the stairs, and Rhys balances the tray with magic and prays Nyx doesn’t notice. When Feyre sees them, she smiles so beautifully Rhys’ heart stops for several beats. Her face is pink and her lips are swollen from sleeping, the honey tangle of her hair tumbles over her shoulder, and the left strap of her nightgown is falling down. He wonders if he will ever get over the perfection of her. “Mommy we made you pancakes!” Nyx announces, and she takes the tray from him before he can spill it over the bed. “You did?!” she asks, pulling the child into her lap. “We did and daddy didn’t help me at all.” Feyre laughs, and wipes the flour from his face with her thumbs. “Well that’s good,” she says, “because daddy has no idea how to make pancakes.” Rhys looks offended. “I do too,” he says. “Cassian taught me.” Feyre’s eyes twinkle at him, and he sits on the foot of the bed. Watches as she puts the first bite into her mouth. “Mmmm,” she hums, eyes closing in pleasure. “These are the best pancakes I have ever eaten in my entire life.” She takes another bite, and moans again, and the sound of it tugs something in deep in Rhys. “Okay I’m gonna eat the rest of the blueberries!” Nyx says, and then runs off down the stairs. The sounds of his little footsteps thundering away fade, and Rhys pounces. In one fluid motion he rises from the end of the bed and has her pinned on her back, the tray forgotten. “Do you know what I think is delicious?” he purrs. “Tell me,” Feyre answers, eyes dancing. “You are,” he says, and puts his mouth on her neck. At that moment, Nyx bursts back into the room. “Daaad I spilled them!” he wails, and Rhys drops his head on Feyre’s chest with a growl. Next thing he knows, little Nyx is climbing up onto his back. He keeps the weight off Feyre as Nyx’s wings are getting heavy, but she reaches up for him and drags him between the two of them. “Nyx sandwich!!” she says. Rhys flares his wings out, wraps them all up and rolls onto his back taking them with him. “Nyx burrito!” he says, and Nyx’s peals of laughter are worth the tea and orange juice that is spilled all over the bed.

*****

Thank you anon for this lovely prompt, I hope this is fluff enough for you!! Are there burritos in Prythian? I don’t know but there are now...

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-babies @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @asteria-of-mars

MASTERLIST

#asks #prompts #prompt fill #feysand #feysand fic #acotar #mine #fluff

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mx-julien · 3 years

Text

glacier drabble for @imaginehavingmotivation since my asks are open rn

gen. fluff. pre-pilot

also on Ao3 (where i clarify my writing and actually use spellcheck)

///

The golden hour floods through the back windows and the sky's on full display atop the Mountain of Impossible Height. Cole's sotting at the kitchen table, lazily sketching. Light pencil jumps and flows across the page of his sketchbook. He'll think it's a terrible drawing in a few years, and turn red when people compliment it. Objectively, it's really quite impressive for a self-taught 17-year-old who doesn't practice much.

Lily used to draw skies like this one, especially after rock climbing. His dad would point at different paintings around their house and describe to Cole the kind of trips they would take. He'd be in the back strapped into his baby seat and his parents would talk low just over the sound of soft jazz from the radio. Lou would start to hike up the other side while Lily strapped baby Cole into a carrier on her back. On the climb up, she'd hum the songs his Dad didn't like until she was within earshot of the top. They'd meet there and she'd start sketching as Lou made them a campfire-style dinner. Then they'd hike back down and sleep in the car for the night, heading back as soon as the sun peeked over the horizon.

In high school, Cole probably would have ended up with a watercolor after thinking so much about his Mom, but now he's just smiling and also trying not to go blind as he sketches the sun.

Behind him, a plate shatters. He jerks from the daydream, spinning around and leaving a dark mark on his paper.

He's greeted with the sight of a sheepish friend. Well, fellow student of martial arts. His name is Zane and he got here about three weeks ago.

"I'm sorry," he walks carefully around the mess and over to the broom, "I did not intend to drop that."

Actually, compared to the broom, he's pretty tall. Taller than Cole, at least - especially with his hair. In the minute or so they have left of the brillant afternoon light, his skin glows as he turns to sweep up the mess.

"It's okay, I drop things all the time, too," Cole stands and walks over to the broom closet, pulling out a pan, "I can help?" He cocks his head a little to the side and raises his eyebrows.

Zane pauses and nearly takes a step back into broken porcelain before aborting the motion entirely, "Oh, that's not strictly necessary," he starts sweeping the slightest bit quicker and ducks his head, "I might as well clean up my own-"

Cole bends down and angles thw pan to catch some of the shards, "Yeah, but you don't have to," he looks up, "It's also quicker this way."

His eyebrows furrow, wrinkiling his nose in what Cole is moderately sure conveys confusion, "I cleaned and tidied various shops for almost a year. I am very familiar with the process."

"Okay, so let's do it."

Zane lets out a breath and sweeps the smaller-sized bits into the pan and points to beneath the sink, "New trash bags are there," he sets the broom aside, "You should empty the pan in there while I pick up the larger pieces."

They clean the floor, surrounded by ambient plastic rustling and wood creaking from around the much too old building. Cole mostly holds the bag for Zane to drop things into, so he's free to observe the clouds or the changing shadows. Instead, he sees how the places where light touches Zane's skin shimmer, contrasting his dark complexion and bouncing off his white hair.

Then, the person in question is looking at him and smirking.

Cole nearly trips over himself trying to turn around, running out of the kitchen and to the exterior door, "I'll put this in the trash can since we're done!"

It's darker outside than he'd expected; cleaning up must've taken a bit longer than he'd thought. Cole returns after just a minute, jogging back inside to cool the heat on his face.

He's met with the clicking of a gas burner and a knife laying atop a cutting board with a pile of scallions, minced garlic and ginger, and chopped bok choi. Zane's slightly hunched over the stove and lightly pours oil into a pan.

Cole retrieves his sketchbook and is nearly at the door when he decides to just flick the lightswitch and head back to his seat, this time facing the countertop. He flips to a new page and begins to plan out a scene ontop a mountain.

"When did you learn to sketch?" Zane barely finishes his question before the room crackles to life as he drops ingredients in.

He stands, and goes to lean on a doorframe near rhe stove, "My mother used to do it and I wanted to learn how, so I just studied a lot of her old sketchbooks."

The chef of the night just nods, "I, um, might have," he turns to the window, hiding his face, "Well, your drawings are rather well-done," he looks back at the stir-fry, "I noticed your sketchbook on the table and- well, my apologies, since I didn't have your permission. It's just, rather-" he glances at Cole, "It's beautiful."

///

i ended up also making this about Lily? sorry??

no editing we die unbetaed

also the ending isn't complete because for some reason in my head it just cuts back to Cole's shocked face and the credits roll for the sundance short film this is most certainly not

EDIT: apparently it's Lilly with two 'l's, RIP me

#lego ninjago #ninjago #ninjago fanfiction #ninjago fic #ninjago drabble #LRGanswers #LRGwritesthings #glacier #glaciershipping #cole x zane #zane julien #cole brookstone #lilly brookstone #lou brookstone

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jaskiersvalley · 3 years

Text

Shards of Ice

There was a lot of yelling in tags, reblogs and comments about Lambert needing to be loved following this post. You should have been more careful with what you wished for, because before things can get better, they need to get worse. But he gets his happy ending, don't worry.

CW: Suicidal thoughts

The room was cold and dusty but Lambert no longer had the energy to care. It was a room, his room, as barren as it was. He had survived trekking up to Kaer Morhen, at least he wouldn't be exposed to the elements so it was a bit better, even if there was no roaring fire. There wasn't even any wood in his room to start one. It would have to wait. Much like food could wait too, Lambert still had a few rations and some water in his pack, that would see him through the next couple of days while his leg finished healing. He so desperately wished he had something to take for it, even just a root to chew on for the pain but he'd run out of potions a while back and had been too caught in grief to even think about making more. At least he had a bed to lie on, that was better than the cold, hard forest floor. Lambert would take any small fortune as a blessing at that point.

Sleep claimed him and didn't release him until the sun was high the next day. Groggy, stiff from sleeping in his armour, and ravenous, Lambert pushed himself up. In the light of day his room looked no better, still just as empty and stale as when he'd walked in. If he could, he would have gone for a wash, anything to freshen up but his leg protested too much. In the end, he sat on the floor next to his bed, munching on a ration of cured meat, willing himself not to feel.

The others had to know he was back. He'd made enough noise, they probably even saw him approaching. But obviously he had no place in their lives. A dogsbody who was good for making their lives easier but didn't warrant anything in return. Not that Lambert did it to get something. But he'd always thought family looked after each other, took turns picking up the slack when one of them stumbled. As the day wore on and Lambert pulled his bedroll onto his bed for a bit of extra warmth, there was only one conclusion he could draw. While he had counted Geralt, Eskel and Vesemir as his family, they didn't think of him in a similar fashion.

On his own with his thoughts, Lambert had the chance to mull it all over. He had been a fool to think his fellow Witchers would consider him part of their family unit. Not even Lambert's own flesh and blood had done that. Just because Destiny threw them in the same cooking pot didn't mean were all part of the same cake. Though Aiden had been different. He had seen Lambert, all of him and decided that he was worth something. Desperate fury at the unfairness of it all had Lambert's lips wobbling even if tears were beyond him. He raged against his lot in life and the fact that the one possible good thing had been ripped from him. Nobody wanted Lambert and, when he found someone who did, they were violently snatched from his grasp.

With nothing do do but sleep and heal, Lambert didn't bother keeping track of the days. While his food and water lasted he would be okay. And when it ran out, he'd decide what he wanted then. Time stopped existing for Lambert, he was either asleep or wallowing in misery. It wasn't like anyone actually cared that his behaviour was very unbecoming of a Witcher, let alone a fully grown man. Lambert figured that if nobody wanted him at his best, it didn't matter what he was like at his worst.

A soft knock woke him from his slumber. It was better to sleep than get lost in his head. Why someone would try to take his only solace from him was beyond Lambert and he woke with a snarl. His leg still pulsed with pain, his room was still cold though he had managed to somewhat air it while the sun was high so it was maybe a little less chilly.

"Lambert?" Eskel's voice called as the door opened. "You missed breakfast again."

All Lambert heard was that he hadn't provided breakfast once again. He'd been back for probably a few days but soft foods and warm honey hadn't magically appeared on the breakfast table for the others. Well, it served them right.

"Go away!" He growled low in his throat.

"I just wanted-"

"Fuck off!" Lambert didn't let Eskel finish. Whatever Eskel wanted, he could get for himself. "I don't want you! I don't need you! Just leave me the fuck alone!" He threw his gloves at the door, followed by his bracers which clanked loudly against the wood, barely missing Eskel's face.

For the first time in his life, Lambert got what he asked for. The door closed again and he was alone. A strangled scream mixed with a sob in his throat and he curled up on the bed, heart and chest aching worse than his leg.

Time had no meaning, Lambert stayed curled up under his blanket, eyes open but not seeing. He'd had enough. Enough pain, enough rejection, enough loneliness. His rations were dwindling but he couldn't even find it in himself to finish them off. There was no point, it would only prolong his suffering.

Another soft knock on his door but he didn't even bother acknowledging it. He was done, the others could get on with their happy little family, they didn't need Lambert in any capacity, that had become obvious in the last few days.

The door opened and Eskel stepped in, an armful of logs and a bag of kindling in hand. He didn't say anything but got a fire going and left. The warmth of the room didn't reach Lambert's heart. He stayed where he was, even when Vesemir stepped in, a bucket of steaming water and a couple of wash cloths. Lambert didn't even have it in him to growl when hands methodically stripped him and wiped the worst of the Path's grime from his body. Fingers deftly worked the bandage on his leg open and, like when Lambert was a kid who'd scraped his knee, the injury got tutted over. Vesemir left and Lambert wondered whether he was such a disappointment that the fact he couldn't even heal from a simple bite had sent the man he'd once considered his father figure turning away in disgust.

For some reason Vesemir was back with a tray. It smelled like medical supplies but Lambert couldn't understand why. Firm hands worked over his leg, cleaning out the wounds, wrapping them. Finally, a vial was tipped against Lambert's lips and he swallowed, hoping it was poison to put him out of his misery. He fell asleep with the sweet bitterness of the potion still on his tongue and decided that maybe this wasn't such a bad way to go.

Unfortunately he woke up again. This time Geralt was in his room, a bowl of broth warming by the hearth. Lambert finally found his words.

"What the fuck do you want?"

He pretended not to see the way Geralt flinched and looked away. It filled him with a sense of perverse satisfaction, knowing that he repulsed his, well, Geralt wasn't his brother, not anymore. Not that he ever was actually.

"Eat," Geralt said, grabbing the warm bowl and holding it up. When Lambert made no move to take it, he fiddled with the spoon. "I can help feed you if you need."

Growling, Lambert snatched the bowl, ignoring the way it was so hot his fingers almost burned. The broth was good, seasoned with his favourites, not that the others would know, they never bothered to ask him. Still, it slid down his throat and warmed his belly, so close to his still stone cold heart.

Anger bubbled in Lambert's chest. The others couldn't even leave him be to make a dignified exit from this world. For some cursed reason now was the time they decided to bring Lambert back, even as he fought tooth and nail to be left. From then on, Lambert never woke alone. There was always someone in his room, never once commenting on his nightmares. Maybe they didn't notice, or thought it was just Lambert's regular dreams.

"Who is Aiden?" Eskel asked one night when Lambert woke, heart in his throat. "You call out for him a lot."

It wasn't something Lambert wanted to answer. He didn't want to trust Eskel with Aiden's memory. It wasn't something he had earned. However, each time Eskel was there and Lambert awoke from a fresh nightmare, he was asked the same question. There was only so many times that Lambert could hear those words before he snapped. At first it was just a gruff "nobody" then a "none of your business" to "a friend". It went on and on like that until Eskel had the full story, with Lambert held close to his chest and shaking like a new born foal.

When Lambert finally left his room, it was with Geralt hot on his heels. Something told Lambert that he knew about Aiden too. Those suspicions were only confirmed when, in the kitchen, Geralt casually said, "I'll come with you in the spring. We'll avenge him."

By the time spring came round, Lambert didn't feel quite so hollow. His heart had started to thaw out but the clump of ice that sat heavy in his chest could barely be called a heart anymore. Over the winter he'd been shown what it could have been like to be part of a family, to be wanted but he couldn't quite connect with the others anymore. The trust he'd offered had been twisted and warped until it was nothing more than a burnt silhouette of what it had once been.

Lambert was no fool. He knew Geralt travelled with him not just for revenge but also for Lambert's safety. It wasn't like Lambert was going to throw himself at the first chort he found. That was not how he wanted to go. But the others didn't care to listen to him in that respect. In a way, nothing had changed in that regard. Lambert's voice was still one to be ignored.

Winter came round quicker than expected. Lambert and Geralt turned north to Kaer Morhen and trekked up the mountain. There was smoke meandering through the air from the fires that had already been lit. It wasn't the Lambert had wanted to come back but he had nowhere else to go either. At least in the old keep he could actually survive winter in relative safety.

"Welcome home boys," Vesemir said as he stepped out the greet them, hugging Lambert first, then Geralt. "Eskel is already home and he's brought a guest with him."

Distantly, Lambert wondered how Geralt would react to Eskel having a guest. And maybe he was a little jealous that Eskel, despite his scars and menacing build, could find someone to winter with so easily. There was only one person Lambert had ever considered inviting home but that had only been a fleeting hope of the past, Destiny had made sure to quash it without hesitation.

"Lamb?" A familiar voice called and Lambert's whole chest hurt. His mind was cruel to play such games, taunting him with the one thing he couldn't have. "Lambert!"

A body barrelled into Lambert, arms wrapping around him tightly. Lips pressed against Lambert's and he tried to see who was stupid enough to mess around with him like that. It wasn't Eskel, his arms felt heavier around him. Eyes open for the kiss, Lambert saw an eyepatch and, as his assailant pulled away, a familiar green eye.

"Aiden." The word was a broken whisper of hope and disbelief. Lambert's hands cupped Aiden's cheeks, held him in place to be inspected, admired and committed to memory. "I thought you'd died. I'd avenged you."

"You're a real darling, thank you for that." Aiden smiled and placed his hands over Lambert's, warm palms holding glove covered ones in place. "But, by some twist of fate, I survived, more or less intact. Took a while to recover, Eskel found me in some remote temple, being healed by some monks. Dragged me back here as soon as I was able to make the journey."

Hands slipping from Aiden's face, Lambert pulled him in for a tight hug, eyes squeezed shut tight. He let Aiden go but only as far as keeping an arm wrapped around his waist. From where he stood, he looked over to the other three Wolves, standing together and watching them. Maybe, just maybe, they were more of a family than Lambert had dared hope. He wasn't certain yet, needed more time to accept that. But, for the first time in a long time, he had he spark of hope flickering in his heart.

#lambden #minor geralt/eskel #lambert #eskel #geralt of rivia #vesemir #aiden #cw: suicidal thoughts #tldr: lambert loses all hope before it comes back

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dercolaris · 3 years

Text

The Puppet Show

Fandom: Resident Evil Village

Characters: Donna Beneviento, Salvatore Moerau, Angie, The Duke

Relationship: Donna Beneviento & Salvatore Moreau (Friendship)

Genre: Friendship, Hurt and Comfort

Word length: 2269

Warnings: No warnings

Status: Complete

Short summary: Salvatore Moreau often roams the village at night. One evening, he meets Donna Beneviento and her doll Angie.

Have fun!

The moon was unusually bright in the black sky, shrouding the forgotten village in an almost mystical glow. Salvatore blinked a little bit, looking up at the twinkling stars with the greatest effort. It was an extremely rare sight. The Lord smiled dreamily and lost himself for a moment in his own world of unfulfilled wishes and hopes of a simple man. A strong tug in his stomach made the doctor flinch. Less than ten seconds later, the black-haired man vomited a gush of green stomach acid across the muddy ground. Salvatore wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stared at his grotesque reflection in the resulting puddle. He grunted softly. What had the parasite made of him? The man clenched his crooked teeth as best he could and averted his eyes from the horrific sight in the liquid. He walked on through the village, constantly trying not to be discovered by the surviving residents. They would just laugh at him again or scare him away angrily. The doctor still hadn't come close to gaining the respect that the other counts had practically inherited. Despite the fact, Alcina and Karl in particular regularly complained about the lack of obedience of the common people. Incomprehensible. Salvatore snorted angrily. The arrogance of the two families often left the black-haired man speechless. None of them seemed to remember that they too were once part of the community and that their high position was achieved solely through their hard working ancestors. The man dragged himself through the night, occasionally throwing curious glances into the surrounding houses. He knew exactly where the living villagers were hiding in the darkness. They mostly sat with their heads bowed at the sparsely set dining tables and prayed together to a god who no longer existed. They became less every day. One after another was dragged away by the horde of wild lycans. Salvatore trudged to one of the boarded-up windows and peered through a crack into the interior of the house. A couple he knew from the old days sat at a broken door in the completely demolished kitchen. The woman's head was on the shoulder of the presumably sleeping or slowly dying husband, their hands tightly clasped together. She silently cried a few tears into her partner's dirty clothes. The Lord felt his heart grow unexpectedly heavy in his chest.

He had sincere pity for these people and sometimes wished that there could be some other way than to shamelessly exploit them for the ongoing experiments with the parasite. Mother Miranda had, of course, explained the necessity to him several times, but a little bit of doubt remained in his good soul. He stepped away from the window as quietly as possible and continued on his way. As is so often the case, Salvatore did not alert the lycans on patrol. These people deserved at least one night's rest in intimate togetherness. The doctor passed the ceremony area and took the opportunity to greet the obese trader. The merchant grinned contentedly and called happily to the walking Lord: “Good evening, Lord Salvatore. Where are you going right now? It's extremely rare to see you out here in the cold.” The black-haired man chuckled a little. He scratched his flaky skin and replied calmly: "You know that the villagers don't particularly like me, Duke. So for better or worse I'll have to postpone my walks into the nights if I want some peace and quiet.” The overweight man laughed out loud at this remark and took a drag on his stinking cigar. The Duke nodded in false understanding. Fortunately, he was extremely well disposed towards the black-haired man and saved himself derogatory comments about his appearance. Probably just out of sheer greed for money. As long as the customers paid reliably, it didn't matter what they actually looked like in the end. The trader replied in a good mood: “Absolutely understandable, Salvatore. I wish you a nice walk and you know where to find me if you should need something.” With these words, the Duke turned back to his favourite pastime. He bit the fragrant chicken leg in his bloated hand and tore out a piece of the tender meat, chewing contentedly on his late supper. The Lord gave him a short wave and strolled on through the unusually bright night.

At least one person who voluntarily exchanged a word with him. Salvatore finally reached the small river on the edge of the village. The silence of the place made the surroundings seem almost peaceful. How deceptive. He was just about to sit down by the clean water for a while and enjoy the moment of peace when he saw a figure wrapped in black on the jetty. The doctor was clearly surprised. He stepped cautiously closer, quickly spotted the little doll on the slippery wood. Her white dress moved in the light wind of the mountains and gave the false impression that it might be a lively little girl. Her owner, however, did not move at all, at that moment she appeared more lifeless than any of her impressive creations. Donna was a gifted and extremely talented doll maker, but her love for the little girls made of wood was clearly going too far. In general she was a very difficult person, which actually wasn't the poor woman's fault. Mother Miranda had told him in a secret conversation that the lonely Countess on the jetty was not really able to interact with the environment due to some mental illness and had been in compulsive self-isolation for years. The unexpected death of her parents had probably completely driven her insane at the time, so that Donna escaped into her own little world. Salvatore smiled sadly at the thought and slowly trotted towards the hooded doll maker. She apparently did not react to his approach, but the doll suddenly turned to him. The doctor stumped heavily onto the jetty and greeted them in a friendly manner: “Ms. Beneviento. What a pleasant surprise. I am probably not the only lost soul who wanders around the village at night."

The woman didn't move, but the wooden figure clattered slowly towards him. A female, squeaking voice came from the doll's mouth: "We don't like the other villagers, Moreau." The black-haired man giggled at this statement and nodded cautiously. He came to stand next to the Countess, panting, sucking air almost helplessly into his no longer properly functioning lungs. It was always a torture to move with this disfigured body. The man coughed lightly and calmly replied: “I really can't blame you for that. I feel the same way, Angie.” The doll began to giggle at the direct address, her mouth falling wildly open and closed again. She circled his massive figure and then returned to her owner. The wooden figure hopped onto the Countess's lap. This still sat like a pillar of salt on a large stone on the pier. Salvatore fell silent for a brief moment. How do you have an appropriate conversation with a mentally ill woman? He frowned, slightly puzzling. After a while the doctor asked hesitantly: “For once, may I keep you company for a while? I am now more than tired of the constant loneliness of my existence and miss interpersonal conversations.” The doll looked at its owner, who still did not move. They somehow seemed to be engaged in some kind of silent conversation. Finally, Angie turned back to the visitor and answered in a childlike voice: “If you can help me collect some materials, you are welcome to stay with us. Donna is also happy, even if she just can't really show it right now." The addressee perked up his ears. Salvatore smiled happily and nodded eagerly. He scratched his deformed chin and inquired curiously: “With pleasure. You said materials, yes? What exactly are you looking for here on the river bed?” Angie laughed triumphantly and slid elegantly from the silent doll maker's lap. She pointed with her woody fingers at a small basket at the end of the dock. The black-haired man looked inside and saw a multitude of elongated plants.

The doll suddenly appeared next to him and began to explain eagerly: “We mainly need reeds, because Donna wants to carve a new friend for our family tomorrow. She would like to make her an own basket out of the plant.” The doctor smiled a little and nodded in the affirmative. The wooden figure laughed overjoyed, then pointed to the bank with the wild reeds. Salvatore looked at the doll for a while, then carefully picked it up in his slippery arms and approached the wet stones of the embankment. His fingers gripped the first pipes, carefully trying to snap them off. The webbed feet made this undertaking more difficult than necessary. Angie herself helped the Lord by keeping the plants that he had already collected in her tiny hands and commented every now and then about the very good quality of the reeds. The black-haired man listened to the child's voice. He was really impressed. This rare company was giving him an incredibly well feeling in his heart. It filled the man with a long-forgotten ease that had long been lost due to his mutation. He snapped off another plant and mumbled softly to the doll, which had meanwhile sat on his back: “How many should we still take, Angie? I am not familiar with the art of braiding and I have to rely on your experience.” The wooden figure giggled mischievously and looked into its own little hand. She counted the reeds between her fingers, then seemed to consider. After a while she called out, louder than planned: "Two more and we've had enough, Moreau." The man chuckled and leaned back toward the plants. He said with amusement: "Well, if you say so, it will be true. I will get them for you." He took the desired number of reed and broke them with a bit of difficulty. In the end he handed the doll his harvest. She gratefully accepted the reeds. Together they returned to the doll maker, who actually lifted her head slightly this time.

The black mourning veil hid her face as usual, but Salvatore thought he had seen a small smile under the hood. Angie hurriedly hopped down from his hump and proudly presented her harvest to her owner: “Look, Donna! Is that enough? Yes, it is surely enough. We can use it to weave a beautiful basket for our new friend!” The Countess said nothing, just remained silent and motionless on the stone. The doctor rubbed his rough hands. This woman was really mysterious. Nevertheless, he had the feeling that she did not meet him with rejection, as it usually happened in his case. The black-haired man suddenly felt the pressure in his stomach again. He took a few deep breaths. Now was clearly the wrong time to vomit acid in front of a very kind lady. Salvatore successfully fought the nausea and spoke slowly: “You certainly want to weave the basket at home, don't you Ms. Beneviento? I can escort you back if you wish. The sun should come up in about an hour and I would like to make sure that you arrive safely at home.” Her head moved a little again. Despite this slight movement, the lively doll at his feet replied again: “Would you really do that, Moreau? How attentive! Donna would appreciate it very much. Come on, let's go home before they see us. I don't want to meet these annoying villagers.” The doctor held out his hand to the woman on the stone. Ignoring the help, she got up herself, then bent down to take Angie carefully in her arms. She walked leisurely up the path. Salvatore bowed his head a little disappointed. Perhaps she found him too repulsive after all and didn't appreciate his presence. Before he could think about it any further, he felt the doll maker's gaze on him. She had turned slightly to him. "Are you finally coming, Moreau?" Asked the doll with an almost mad laugh. This question literally made the Lord's eyes shine. He released himself from his rigidity and trotted quickly after the woman. Together they hiked to the house of the Benevientos. When he got to the front door, Salvatore came to a stop, panting heavily. This whole walk was more exhausting for him than he thought.

The doll maker opened the locked door with an ornate key and turned to her companion. Angie had meanwhile jumped off her arms and run into the house, talking loudly to the other dolls. The man smiled sheepishly and spoke politely: “Thank you very much for your precious time, Ms. Beneviento. Perhaps you can come and see me in my private property one day. I have an old television at home and I know some very good movies that you might also like. You can think about it, Ms. Beneviento.” Suddenly, the Countess became very stiff. As if in slow motion, her arms were raised and she took the veil from her head, showing her beautiful, pale face. A sprawling organism pulsed on her forehead to the beat of her heart. A smile crept onto her thin lips when she replied very quietly: "Donna." Salvatore forgot to breathe briefly. The Countess slowly raised her right hand and held it out to her companion. He carefully took her hand in his, lowered his head slightly and breathed a kiss on the back of the fragile hand. Salvatore replied happily: "Of course, Donna."

#Resident Evil 8 #Resident Evil Village #Donna Beneviento #Salvatore Moreau #Moreau #Beneviento #Donna #Salvatore #Friendship #Angie #Doll Maker

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daydream-believin · 3 years

Text

Flowers Have Feelings

summary: it's valentines and you're making some gifts for your good pal douxie,,, also confessing

warnings: swearing probably, no proofread cause tired

word count: 2659

a/n: i've been struggling with writers block. i guess. i've returned to this only to write like, a paragraph so many times. which is bad cause like cheese designed the bouqeut and this should have been done ages ago. idk idk bon appetit

tags: @yagirlcheesely, is for you

image below: sketch of the bouquet

You jumped out of bed and slammed your alarm. Today was the day. You had to get everything ready today. Tonight would be the presentation. The night you finally do it. The night you confessed to your closest friend and crush, Douxie. Also happened to be Valentine’s day.

Your friends may have told you: “Just be patient. Drop hints. If he likes you, he’ll let you know.” But you weren’t about that passive love life. You liked to grab that strawberry cow by the horns. Subtly was boring and took far too long. You were in love with your friend and you were gonna let him know frankly if it killed you. It probably would, to be honest.

As confident as this makes you sound, you were aware of the possibility of him not liking you back, and that was okay. Sure, your heart would be shattered and you might not be very peachy for, say, a month or six, but you accepted that. At first, you had resigned yourself to just adoring him secretly. But you quickly grew impatient with that. What were you afraid of, really? Him letting you down gently, and ushering you two into an era of awkwardness? Okay so maybe that was worth considering. But not really. You wouldn’t let it come to that. Even if he did turn you down, you weren’t about to let that fact taint your friendship like that. You two were very close, and Douxie wasn’t the kind of guy to suddenly treat you differently after such a thing. Just a few weeks of awkwardness at most before all was forgotten (on his end at least). Only a problem for you. But, boy, it would be really, really nice, and not awkward, if he reciprocated.

You and Douxie were thick as thieves. There wasn’t a thing you hadn’t told each other. Not a secret between a pair of buddies as close as you. Oh, one thing, you know. The fact that you had caught feelings, that was definitely something you had kept secret from him. As eager as you were to do so, you couldn’t just drop a bombshell like that at any old time. That’s why you chose today of all days to confess; a little extra luck from St. Valentine. A little magic to give you a boost, placebo or not. This was going to happen. This was going to work.

You strapped on your helmet, safety first, before heading out on your bike. You cleared your schedule for the day cause you weren’t really sure if everything would work out or not. You could have everything done and ended wrapped up neatly in a few hours, or you could have a complete disaster on your hands, which could take up all your time. Time you would happily give, since you were determined for everything to be perfect. It was also nice to know you didn’t have to come in to work later,, lest you spend the whole night, crying your eyes out. You shuddered at the possibility. You were gonna stop thinking about that now. Yeah, only confidence now.

You may be a teensy bit sleep deprived. Only a teensy bit. You chugged a monster this morning, you’ll be fine. It wasn’t your fault you were up all night researching flower language. There were so many flowers, and those flowers had so many feelings. Eventually though, you managed to settle on a bouquet of roses, daisies, and dandelions. Fern leaves for greenery too. Greenery was important for flower arrangements. It tied the whole thing together. While it wouldn’t be the most on theme color scheme, the yellows, whites, reds, and greens, would mix together prettily. You definitely didn’t have to go as far as this, and you were banking on the fact that Douxie even knew flower language, but it was sweet, it was romantic. And you were going to be romantic about this, dammit.

Daisies, for friendship. It was really important that you communicate just how much you valued Douxie’s friendship and how nothing would change between you two if he were to not return your feelings. Red, red roses, classic romance. There was a reason the blooms were so strongly associated with the valentines holiday itself; no one sees a red rose and thinks of anything other than love and romance. A clear message to your beloved. And well, the dandelions? Cheery, beautiful, resilient, common weeds, never to be approved of, finding the strength to bloom despite assholes like Merlin’s best efforts. Dandelions were Douxie’s favorite flower.

Too bad the florist didn’t even consider them to be anything but said common weed. You had included them in your order when you called it in and you could hear the florist laugh, but muffled as if he put his hand over the receiver, before returning to the phone to inform you that you would have to add them yourself. Pretty rude, if you say so. No matter, hand-picked dandelions would be romantic, anyways. Even if no one else knew about it but you.

You placed the bouquet neatly into the basket of your bike. You’d pick the dandelions to complete it later, right before the big confession, in order to keep them fresh. But as of now, the bouquet peaked out of your basket, the floral fragrance wafting up to your face as you made your way to the next store.

Last week, you had seen such an adorable little box of chocolates. It had chocolates shaped like little skulls, flowers, and ghost cats, and the box had a silly pun about death. Goth chocolate, def. It would have been perfect for the edgy wizard in your life, but alas, it was way too fucking expensive. Like obscenely expensive. But no matter, you’d just steal the idea. How hard could making chocolate be anyway?

You left the grocery store with your haul safe in your skull-patterned reusable shopping bag. Wizard-chic and eco-friendly, it was your favorite bag. The contents of the much-loved bag? Melting chocolates, a jar of marmalade, a jar of raspberry jam, a jar of strawberry jam, and a new roll of wax paper, since you were out. Now you weren’t as ambitious as to make your own jam here. This was a failsafe. There are only so many ways to ruin chocolates if you did not make the chocolate nor the filling yourself. Now just a quick run in the stationary shop on your way home for a cute box, and you were all ready to start your chocolatier career.

* * *

Douxie was getting antsy. Not many patrons had paid a visit to his bookstore this afternoon. Which was strange for valentine’s. and it left him with nothing but his thoughts to entertain his anxious mind. Doux had a lot to worry about. His band had a gig in a new town, so he wasn’t sure how they would be received. He was waiting on a shipment of books that was supposed to show up days ago. It may have gotten lost. That Lake kid was getting himself into more and more trouble these days and it was starting to become hard to help out without overstepping his vaguely imposed bounds. But most of all, at the very moment, he was worried about you.

You had asked him to meet up for dinner tonight. Okay, pretty normal for a Sunday night. Not that the weekend meant anything to either of you, but you normally set aside Sunday for dinner hangout. So nothing to abnormal. But then. Then, you said, something… Douxie actually can’t recall what you said, per se, just that it was along the lines of “we need to talk.” And that your tone sounded nervous. He did not like that one bit, nope nope. He had spent a great part of the day just revisiting every interaction the two of you had had in the last month or so, desperate to figure out if he did something wrong. But he was coming up blank, for all his efforts. Across the room, the clock ticked on. It would be closing time soon enough, and then he’d no longer have to wonder just what he did wrong, as you would be there to tell him directly. Fuzzbuckets, he couldn’t wait.

* * *

You wiped the goopy chocolate off of your cheek with the back of your hand. So far this wasn’t a total disaster. You had at least seven chocolate skulls filled and drying in the molds. The white chocolate seemed to have melted smoother than the regular chocolate? The regular chocolate ones looked kind of lumpy. You hoped they came out of the molds okay. Not to mention the ones you already messed up. A little mountain of chocolate pieces and jam had started rising from your table top corner.

It had been lots of fun at the start. melting the chocolates with a double boil, planning out which molds would be which flavors. But actually filling those molds? A messy, messy ordeal. You had chocolate and jam all over your kitchen, up to your exposed elbows, and even a little in your hair. But that was okay. You’d clean the kitchen later. With the molds in the freezer to set, your priority now was cleaning yourself up rather than the kitchen.

And you cleaned up nice, if you did say so yourself. You got the chocolate out of your hair, and had on a fresh outfit, taking a little time to put effort into your style. You looked snazzy, but not too fancy. You needed to stay casual. Something that you hoped would make Douxie be like ‘wow they look pretty okay’ but not freak him out with formality. Yeah. This was good.

Your watch beeped. Okay, you needed to get out of here, no more dilly dallying. You pulled the candies you made out of the freezer. Moment of truth. Thank the stars, all of the chocolates came out of the molds smoothly without breaking. You arranged them in the cute circular box you set up earlier and folded the tissue paper over them. They all fit in perfectly. The cheesy valentine card, the most important part, didn’t quite fit on top of the candies, you’d have to put it with the bouquet. You slid the lid onto the box and fastened a bow around it with a blue ribbon. Maybe this was a bit overkill, but Douxie knew how to appreciate the dramatic. He’d love it, you were sure.

Last but not least, you headed to the greenspace across the street from your apartment for the final ingredient in your Douxie wooing, dandelions. You were lucky that the empty lot had recently bloomed an entire garden’s worth of the yellow things. The chilly breeze mussed up your newly-fixed hair as you danced about gathering the tiny flowers, adding to the bouquet until you felt like it was enough. Which took longer than you had hoped. You definitely could have kept adding in more dandelions but your watch beeped once again and you had no choice but to make peace with the level of yellow and book it to the bookstore where you and Douxie were supposed to meet before heading out for the night.

* * *

Hearing the ding of the door chime, Douxie turned around to kindly inform the customer who came in that he wasn’t open, but the words caught in his throat when he was met with your smile. There you were, standing in the shop with a box in one hand and flowers in the other. You looked cute. Really cute. But Douxie chased that thought away. He fumbled with the book he had been re-shelving. It fell out of his hand unceremoniously, landing with a thud.

“Hey,” Doux managed to get out. “What’s all-”

“These are for you!” you shoved the presents into his now empty hands. That courage you had earlier? Gone. Your resolve? Dissolving as we speak. You had to get this over with before you chickened out. He was just so good, okay. And why did you think this was a good idea. Douxie looked down at the gifts in his hands confused, before blushing. If he could have reached a hand behind his head and rubbed the back of his neck he would have.

“I didn’t know we were doing Valentine’s, uh. I feel bad I didn’t get you anything.”

“Oh! Don’t be. I just,, felt like doing something nice for you and uh, special,” Douxie tilted his head. You took the box, freeing up his hand. “These are chocolates I made, like, like you’re supposed to do.” You waltzed over to the counter to place them out of the way. “The bouquet is the real star here, uh, I picked them out very carefully.” You tucked your arms behind your back. “I, uh- I brushed up on flower language, and I hope I got it right.”

Now Douxie may have been a Victorian once upon a time but he had barely any surviving memory of the frilly flower language people socialized through in those days. But thankfully, the blooms in the bouquet in front of him were straight forward enough that he did in fact get the message without taking too much gear turning in that noggin of his. Although, the friendly daisies with the red roses were kind of sending him some mixed signals. He knew what he wanted them to mean, but he could just be misinterpreting. You seemed to notice his hesitation.

“Um, there’s a card too. In the flowers somewhere. That. Probably explains what I’m trying to say a little clearer.” You carded your fingers through your hair. You had anticipated not being able to really speak with your voice, as you barely could now, so you’d written it all out on the card as backup. But damn, that card had everything on it. You maybe got a little carried away. There wasn’t going to be any going back from this.

Douxie dug out the card from amidst the blooms. It was handmade, with a cheesy little drawing on the front complete with a pun. And then he opened it. It was almost solid black with ink. Yeah, you had written that much in there. Both sides. And a little on the back. Wow. Doux tried his best to keep up a poker face while reading it but failed quickly as the first few lines alone left him flushed. It was true, everything was on it. From how much you adored Douxie as a person, to how much you valued his friendship, to how pretty you thought he was, to how you longed for something more, with him? Douxie felt like his hands were getting the card all sweaty.

It was nerve wracking watching him read that card. It seemed like he was finished, since his eyes stopped raking through it, but now he was staring intensely at the words written on the pages, in a trance. He broke focus, looking to the bouquet, back to the card, and then finally settled on you.

“Wow.”

“… is that a good wow?”

Douxie caught you by surprise. He pulled into a hug. “Yeah, a good wow.”

You and Douxie’s first non-platonic hug? Yes please. You didn’t even mind the flowers pressing into your back. Okay so a few rose thorns were poking you but that was fine. Douxie smelled like something you couldn’t name, but it was spicy, and cozy. He let you go sooner than you were ready to, but he grinned at you as he left to rummage through his things in the back for a vase. He turned to you as he proudly displayed them on the store’s counter, right where he could look at them all workday,

“So, where are we going tonight? For our first date?” Doux chuckled, “and, technically, our first Valentine’s day too.”

#valentines💘#douxie x reader #douxie x y/n #hisirdoux casperan x reader #douxie casperan x reader #hisirdoux x reader #douxie imagine #hisirdoux casperan imagine #douxie casperan imagine #tales of arcadia x reader #tales of arcadia imagine #douxie #hisirdoux casperan #my writing

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tunedtostatic · 3 years

Text

ain’t no safety coats, raft or river boats

Brian & Sana (plus a dash of Brian & Arkady and pre-Brian/Krejjh), 1.5k

This was supposed to be another triple drabble. It is not! Title is from “Can’t Be Too Careful” by Jennah Bell.

CW: Food, mention of minor injury, descriptions of deep bodies of water

Brian suppresses a sleepy morning yawn as he makes his way down the dim corridor of the starship Rumor. After two nights aboard, this path between the bathroom and the kitchen is still unfamiliar in a way that brings back memories of waking up in new apartments and the odd adjustment periods of still packed boxes and unfamiliar sinks and cabinets in new spaces that had abruptly become “home.”

Right. Just another new apartment. New bed. New shower. New, borrowed clothing—no boxes to unpack this time. New microwave. New cargo hold with thirty-five cases of bulk gourmet chocolate destined for the intergalactic black market. New bath mat.

In the kitchen, Captain Tripathi is at the stove, boiling a kettle.

New roommates.

“Morning, Brian.” Tripathi smiles at him, one of her dimples showing. “Tea?”

“I wouldn’t say no to a cup of tea?” Brian steps up to the counter next to her, opening the cabinet that he now knows holds the cereal. “Thanks, Captain.”

As Sana methodically unseals a package of vacuum-sealed bread, Brian realizes that this is the first time he’s been alone with her. Krejjh has been spending hours with her, learning the Rumor’s cockpit, and Brian’s first hour aboard included First Mate Arkady Patel walking him to the Rumor’s tiny medbay and carefully cleaning the cut on his cheek with a taciturnity that did not come across as unkind. But this is the first time Brian and Sana have been in a room together without the rest of their tiny new crew.

The toaster slot in the wall dings, and Brian watches Sana out of the corner of his eye as she spreads butter substitute on her toast. He’s known her for three days, two life-threatening calamities, and one crew dinner. He trusts her with his life. He doesn’t think he knows her better than he did the hour they met.

“Have you and Krejjh been settling into your cabins okay? I told them to let me know if they needed the temperature lower in there. As it is, one reg controls the whole ship, but I should be able to rig something up.”

“You can ask them when they wake up. But their energy levels seem pretty normal to me.” Brian smiles.

Sana smiles back, but as Brian pulls the milk out of the fridge, he has the feeling that she’s watching him, too.

He doesn’t think her question about Krejjh was, like, a test, with a right/wrong answer where she was seeing if he was…willing to speak for them, or something. He doesn’t really think it was any kind of deliberate probe, even to scope out something as general as how much he and Krejjh trust or know about each other. But he does feel like, every time they interact, Tripathi has been quietly getting the measure of him.

He doesn’t have the measure of her yet. He’s known other people who are both kind and tough. That isn’t a heavy lift. But there is another dimension to Sana’s kindness, something deep and quiet that undulates like an underground river.

“It has been nice to have some enthusiasm in the cockpit, I have to say.” There’s a twinkle in her eye, now. Right, Brian’s almost-joke about Krejjh’s energy levels. “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to teach the Rumor’s quirks to someone new.”

As she reseals the butter substitute, she glances at him with a canny expression. “You know, she might not come out and say this, but I think Arkady is looking forward to have someone who might be doing, say, translation work at the kitchen table while she’s on one of her coding marathons, too.”

Brian smiles and nods, wondering if Sana, for all her perspicacity, has realized yet that her subtle skid-greasing in this realm isn’t necessary. You met some interesting folks in academia, even if most of them didn’t carry at least three guns at all times and have biceps the size of Brian’s undergrad coffee thermos, and you definitely met some interesting folks on Neuzo. Resultantly, some types of weirdness are easier for Brian to parse than others.

A few hours after a sweaty, out of breath Sana, Arkady, Krejjh and Brian had made it aboard the Rumor and into space, Sana was still flying and Arkady had vanished after her into the cockpit to help liaise with their contacts. Unfamiliar with the ship, Brian and Krejjh had stuck to the kitchen, talking quietly.

Arkady had appeared in the doorway with a faint scowl, looking Brian and Krejjh over for a second before going to the sink and silently filling two glasses with water. She’d walked to the table and set the glasses down, remaining standing.

“Important to stay hydrated.”

“Thanks, dude,” Brian said hesitantly.

Arkady grunted, staring impassively down at them for another few seconds. “We did a pot of pasta last night. Leftovers are in the fridge. It has rehydrated shellfish powder. Allergies?”

Brian shook his head.

“Microwave’s there.” Arkady pointed to the very obvious microwave. “Fridge.” The even more obvious fridge. “Cabinets. Help yourself to whatever, except the chamomile tea, that’s for Sana’s headaches.”

“Roger dodger,” Krejjh replied, in a cadence Brian could recognize as false cheer.

Arkady turned to look directly at Krejjh, and Brian tensed.

Arkady must have noticed that, because she turned and looked at him for a long second. Her eyes, he realized, reminded him of a deep mountain lake he had seen once on a visit to Earth. The water had been impossibly clear; you could see through it all the way down to the point where light no longer filtered through.

She reached for a chair and swiveled it in an easy motion, sinking down to straddle it backwards.

“I’m this ship’s security officer,” she said, as though this wasn’t functionally obvious from the five holstered guns, the two sheathed knives, the events that had introduced the two halves of the new crew to each other, or her thorough sweep for bugs when they finally made it to the Rumor. “That means that while you are part of this crew, you are under my protection.”

Brian had felt his shoulders relax, and Arkady had dropped her lakewater gaze, mumbled something about Sana assigning them cabins later, and spun the chair back around.

Then she’d bolted. Brian had smiled and squeezed Krejjh’s hand—trying to ignore the way this seemed to make his heart flip a little more every time—and gotten up to microwave the pasta.

The kettle starts to whistle, and Sana reaches a nonchalant hand to set it on a cool burner as deftly as if it was a teacup. Her arm musculature situation isn’t exactly shabby, either, which…yeah, working as a mechanic in the wartime shipyards would probably do that.

Then add ‘building a secret starship with your own two hands.’ Brian is still trying to wrap his head around that one. Becoming one of the only humans fluent in Standard Exo-Dwarnian after shiphopping to Neuzo for fieldwork, and then getting in the ill graces of the Dwarnian mafia and falling in l—becoming excellent friends with a deserting Dwarnian pilot probably wouldn’t be considered, like, that normal by most people? But Brian has never built anything larger or more secret than a poprocket that time in third grade, unless you count the less physical large-ness of his research, which was technically also a secret once the war broke out, and now that he’s thinking about it, if you gave each sentence of his thesis the weight of a rivet, it actually might be up there with the mass of a starship? Ha, he’s totally telling Krejjh that just to see the look on their face. No doubt they’ll have opinions on whether a chapter section is equivalent to one or two hull subsections.

“Mugs are in that cabinet,” Sana says easily, gesturing toward it.

“Got it, dude,” Brian replies, equally easily.

You don’t comfortably exist in a place like Neuzo, or for that matter a place like academia, if you expect everyone to present their whole self at all times. Besides, since Brian is now in effect depending on Tripathi’s astuteness for his own safety and Krejjh’s, it’s comforting to know that she knows how to keep an eye on layers of social interactions, even when that includes her interactions with him.

He hands off the mugs in a brush of cracked porcelain and calloused hands. The domesticity of working beside someone at a kitchen counter is unexpectedly comforting, too. He could almost be in the cramped galley kitchen of his last shared grad school apartment, or behind the bar with Alvie, getting ready for a shift.

He isn’t.

Sana drops the teabags into the mugs, pouring the steaming water carefully. “If you take sugar, I think it was last seen in the cabinet next to the fridge.”

Brian chuckles at her almost-joke about the dynamic chaos of her kitchen. The kitchen. Their kitchen. He’s going to be spending the next few days getting used to that. If Sana is an early riser, maybe he’ll spend the next few days getting used to mornings like this with her, too.

#tscosi #the strange case of starship iris #brian jeeter #sana tripathi #my writing #fic #crossposted to ao3 link in the notes

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jazzistolkienfanfics · 4 years

Text

Beads and Braids - Kili x reader

Type: Imagine Pairing: Kili x reader Summary: post BOTFA, everyone lives!AU, in which Y/N, a girl from Rohan seeking shelter in Erebor, befriends the Princes, and the mischievous Kili needs better ways of confessing his feelings. Warnings: ‘fuck’, ‘shit’ Word Count: 2735

All italicised, non-English words are in Khuzdul, one of the main Dwarvish languages.

Y/N was no stranger to being alone, nor was she unused to being unusual. Being on the run from a dangerous league of hunter assassins that were sweeping through her hometown of Rohan, spending months trying to reach Erebor, the Mountain of Gold, then arriving only to be turned away, had taught her not to care too much about loneliness.

Sure, she’d been allowed in eventually, after she’d insisted to the stingy King Thorin Oakenshield that she had ‘absolutely no fucking interest in your goddamn gold’, but the reminder that she wasn’t wanted in Erebor still stung dully day after day, even as she attempted to bury the emotion beneath layers of stone.

Although, she was no longer completely shunned while in Erebor. The first few weeks had been difficult, especially as she was at least eight inches taller than everyone else, even as a relatively short human - Y/N was surrounded by Dwarves, and it was a transformative experience (she enjoyed being tall for a change).

But as time went on, the Dwarves became far more accepting - mostly because when Bard visited with his children, Sigrid and Tilda (who was the reason they were there, to say hello to the ‘lucky Dwarves from the toilet’, namely Dwalin, her favourite) and saw her, he spouted a whole speech on the helpfulness of humans in the Battle of the Five Armies, especially how a number of them had charged Azog’s numbers, saving the line of Durin. That made Thorin begrudgingly become kinder to her.

Y/N spent most of her days outside the cold fortress, reading old books on Dwarven culture and their previous interrelations with other relations on the ramparts or the grasses below the Mountain. It was on one of such days that she ran into someone who would change her life.

Well, Y/N didn’t run into him.

He really ran into her.

Y/N had been sitting on the ramparts, her legs swinging over the side and continually tucking her h/c hair behind her ears as the wind blew it into her face. A large book with a f/c leather cover that had stood out to her in the towering shelves of the Library was sitting in her lap, gold-leaf lettering across the front of it boldly proclaiming ‘A History of the Honourable Line of Durin’. She’d been told by Balin (a frequenter of the Library) that it was updated often with the latest triumphs of the youngest of the Line of Durin: Thorin, Fili and Kili, the Royals Under the Mountain.

Y/N wouldn’t lie, she was mostly reading it to make fun Thorin, but then again, history was interesting.

She looked up from a particularly hilarious passage about Thorin’s ‘incredible bravery and innumerable acts of service to the Throne of Erebor’ at the harsh cry of a raven. It circled around her, cawing enthusiastically with something less akin to malevolence and more to happiness in its black eyes, before flying off.

Y/N had been smiling but she frowned when she realised that the raven was not flying towards Erebor, as most did, but away from it.

Then it had to be flying away from something … Y/N connected the dots just as the door to the battlements whipped open and something slammed into her back just as she was turning around, knocking her off the ramparts.

She screamed loudly, looking at the ground beneath her and envisioning the fifty different ways she would splatter all over it.

A hand encased in a brown glove but for the fingers suddenly swung into her view, catching ahold of hers in a startlingly tight grip.

Y/N looked up, seeing a Dwarvish face that was at once familiar and entirely seperate from her small existence in Erebor, and she couldn’t put a name to him.

His brown hair reached just past his shoulders, and was not braided. Paired with his beardless, kinda attractive face (stubble did not count in Y/N’s eyes), Y/N reached the conclusion that he was still young, definitely under 100.

He was holding onto her with one of his hands and his other was held by a blonde Dwarf with much more facial hair than the former and a messy blonde mane like a lion who stood behind the battlements where she had been sitting prior to being knocked off by (presumably) one of the two.

Y/N was very impressed that the Dwarf was holding her up with one hand, as she was at least more than half a foot taller than him, but she had no energy to be focused on that emotion beyond the hot fear coursing through her veins.

“Oi! Pull!” the brown-haired Dwarf yelled, and the blonde did so, clenching his teeth and heaving, until all three of them were safe on the ramparts.

“I am so sorry for my brother’s clumsiness, Miss Y/N!” the bearded, seemingly older Dwarf apologised.

“Itkit! (Shut up!)” the younger brother hissed, giving the blonde a scathing glare. “But I do apologise, Lady Y/N.” He emphasised the title he gave her, though it was definitely not one she actually possessed.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N replied to the two enthusiastic Dwarves with confusion etched all over her face. Here they were, having knocked her off the side of a fucking Castle, calling her ‘Lady’ and apparently knowing her name when she could not match a name to either of their faces. “How do you know my name? Do I know you?”

“Oh, that’s right,” the brunette said thoughtfully, turning to his brother. “Uncle Thorin said she was new.”

“He also said she was a-”

“Oh Mahal, shut up! How many languages do I have to say that in?”

Uncle Thorin? Oh shit ....

“Anyway. Prince Fili-”

“-and Prince Kili-”

“At your service!” they both chimed, bowing low in unison and springing back up with wide grins that made them seem a lot younger than they probably were.

“Fuck...” Y/N muttered under her breath, curtseying as low as she could. “My Princes, I apologise-”

Her embarrassed apology was cut short with a squeak flying from her mouth as she was yet again jerked up by Kili, who brushed off her f/c dress that was dirty from falling off the ramparts.

“Lady Y/N, you needn’t apologise; it is technically my fault for knocking you off the walls of Erebor!”

“Then you needn’t call me Lady Y/N,” the girl retorted, almost instantly regretting the familiarity with a royal figure, but also proud when Kili gave a loud laugh and wide smile. “I’m just Y/N.”

“Alright then, Just Y/N,” Kili teased, wiggling his eyebrows and taking her hand, kissing it gently. “On behalf of the Prince of Erebor-”

“-Princes, you little shit,” Fili interrupted, casually spinning a knife on his fingers.

“... Princes of Erebor,” Kili rolled his eyes. “Welcome, new friend.”

---

“You two are unbelievable,” Y/N complained, though a wide smile was affixed on her face.

“We know,” Fili and Kili replied, both still covered in flour from when they’d begun to throw it like snowballs in the middle of baking with her.

“Well, at least we salvaged-” Y/N cut herself off as she took the cake out of the oven. “Mahal. What is that?”

The cake was less a cake, and more a complete mess. Half of it looked gooey and porous, and the other half burnt. Y/N just turned to the brothers, raising an eyebrow.

They eyed each other too, shuffling their feet.

Y/N sighed. “This is why we don’t have food fights in the kitchen, guys.”

Fili and Kili had the decency to look a little sheepish as Y/N turned to dump the mess in the bin. As she did so, she glanced out the window and flinched.

“Shit! I’m meant to meet Bard soon - it’s a meeting of great importance. And I’m not ready, there is flour everywhere, my hair is a mess-”

“Well, we can handle at least one of those things,” Kili told Y/N, lightly pushing her into a chair, his hands clean of flour now. “I know a really good hairstyle for special occasions - our mother used to wear it.”

He began to run his fingers through her hair, gently untangling the knots with a brush Fili gave him (honestly, how much did that Dwarf have in his coat?) and braiding it. Y/N closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his hands in her hair and its soothingness. Suddenly, she opened her eyes, flushing red.

Was she falling for the Prince of Erebor?

No, surely not. After all, he was a dwarf, and she a human: a human the King of Erebor didn’t exactly have a partiality towards. It would never work out.

That doesn’t mean feelings just stop, dumbass. Y/N’s brain reasoned. She rolled her eyes at herself.

“Alright, it’s done! And Fili and I will clean up the kitchen,” Kili announced, pulling her up and lightly dusting off her f/c dress, careful to avoid any areas it was improper to touch, a small hint of pink on his cheeks as he did so. Y/N pulled some of her hair around her shoulders - Kili had done several braids amongst her loose hair, most of them tied with black bands but one with a beautiful bead in it that she didn’t get a proper look at.

(A/N - imagine this hairstyle, but only one bead, and that bead has lots of jewels all in different colours)

“We’ll clean up what?” Fili protested. Kili smirked, pushing her out the door.

“We’ll see you later, Y/N!”

---

Y/N ran as fast as she could, considering her annoyingly impractical skirt, and she finally skidded to a stop in the snow outside the great doors, taking in who was there.

Bard bowed his head in greeting, his eldest daughter, Sigrid by his side. (Y/N had thought she had heard faint giggles from inside, meaning Tilda was hanging out with Dwalin again), Thorin stood impatiently, leaning on his sword, and next to him, keeping a petty distance was …

“My lord Thranduil,” Y/N bowed, having also read all about the infamously glamorous Elvenking of Mirkwood. “I apologise for my tardiness.”

“You are on time, Y/N,” Bard said, giving Thorin a side-eye. The damages of the Battle of the Five Armies went far beyond death.

Thorin chose to sit on a ledge that a) placed him higher than all of those present and b) allowed him to rest. Recovering from being impaled by the Pale Orc was a lengthy process, and one still far from finishing.

“What is the importance of this meeting?” Y/N asked, eager to go back to her chambers and think on the startling discoveries she’d made on what her heart told her about Kili Durin.

“The purpose, Y/N, is for this …”

---

After the meeting, Y/N went to leave, but Thorin called her name, stopping her.

“Yes, my King?”

He reached for one of the braids Kili had put in her hair, smiling kinder than she had ever seen him do so.

“Kili’s bead. So you have not tamed the Lion, but you have chosen the Fox. Loyal, yet cheeky and sweet.”

Y/N opened her mouth, confused, but Thorin kept speaking.

“I congratulate you on your courtship, Y/N. I wish you much love and happiness.”

“My King, I’m sorry, but I am not courting-”

He swept off in a majestic swirl of furs, leaving Y/N with a finger raised and her eyebrows wrinkled in confusion.

“Courting?” she wondered aloud. “What in Middle-Earth ...”

Suddenly, she recalled Thorin’s observation of ‘Kili’s bead’, and she pulled her hair in front of her face, scanning it for the singular, beautiful silver bead, with its nine differently-coloured gemstones, and some vague thought buried in the back of her brain called to her.

“That Dwarf ...” Y/N cursed colourfully, tossing her hair over her shoulder, picking up her skirts and running as fast as she could to the most familiar area of Erebor.

The Library. Shelves upon shelves, thousands stretching out further than Y/N could see from the entrance. She raced for the section on Dwarvish customs, pulling a dusty red tome titled ‘Dwarves and Their Secrets - The Rites and Customs of Their Culture’ and flipping through it, coughing as swirls of dust swam into the air.

Finding the page she was after, she slammed the open book onto a nearby table, running her finger down the page as her h/c hair fell in her face.

“That little fuck,” Y/N hissed, closing the book with a slam and sliding down one of the shelves until she sat on the floor, her arms curled around her knees, her face hidden from the world and vice verse by her h/l hair.

“So you found out,” a meek voice said, prompting Y/N to lift her head as Kili sat next to her.

“You bet your non-existent beard I did,” Y/N grumbled.

“I’m sorry,” Kili mumbled, burying his face in his hands, which were large, the same size as yours. “I didn’t know how to tell you that I liked you. I chose the coward’s way out.”

“I can understand that,” Y/N admitted. “Although telling everyone that why were courting via my hairstyle was not the smartest way of going about it.”

“Well, technically, your hairstyle doesn’t say you are dating. (A/N: this part here is completely made up) These braids in this style, paired with the loose hair actually means unrequited love. And seeing as I did your hair, and I have a matching braid-” he briefly pushed his hair behind his ear, pulling on a small braid, that was, indeed matching, even with a simpler version of the bead, with only two gems. “-it basically tells everyone that I have a crush on you. Uncle Thorin just misunderstood because he only looked at the bead, which he knows I own.”

“What do the gems mean?” Y/N asked, knowing she was avoiding the topic of Kili’s love for her and her possible love for him, but too afraid to cross that bridge.

Kili smiled nervously, already flushing from what he anticipated Y/N’s reaction to be, and he pulled the bead from her hair, pointing to each gem as he explained their meaning.

“The white one with the blue sheen - moonstone. It means patience, like how I am willing to wait for you. This pink one is morganite. It symbolises divine love and prosperity. These two are the ones that I have in my matching bead.” And Y/N saw that this was indeed true.

“The red ruby, which symbolises passion.” Kili’s cheeks looked as red as the jewel as he hurriedly moved on. “An emerald, green, which is fertility. Not only in children, but fertility in the soil that grows the flowers of success. Old wive’s tale. The purple one’s an opal - which is for emotional purity. It’s meant to guard against jealousy and anger. The garnet and the citrine - orange and the yellow - both stand for protection, though the citrine also provides prosperity and success.”

Y/N was completely entranced by his knowledge of the gems, even as he came to the last few.

“This pastel blue one is for fidelity, although I don’t think you need that, you have loads of it.” Y/N and Kili laughed together, and Kili fixed the bead back in her hair.

“Wait! You didn’t explain the last one!” Y/N protested, eager to hear more.

Kili stopped, smiling. “Oh. That’s a sapphire, which means trust, like how I’m trusting you with my heart. But I put it in there because it’s the exact colour of your eyes.”

Y/N was so touched by this last one, that he trusted her with his heart, even after she heard that it had been broken by the death of the Mirkwood elleth, Tauriel, that she threw her arms around him, squeezing him tight. On the floor, they were a similar height, and he hugged her back lightly.

“You know, Kili of the Line of Durin,” Y/N said teasingly as her arms lingered around his neck, though she pulled back so she could look him in the eye. “I think I need to thank you for the bead and the braids, because you made me realise something.”

“What?” Kili breathed.

“I realised I’m kinda in love with you.”

And hidden in the endless shelves of the library, Y/N kissed him, right there and then.

Hi there guys! I’ll be putting up a dialogue prompts request list soon for you to request UP TO THREE numbers.

Thanks for reading! Please feel free to heart this imagine, give me a follow and/or request (it makes my day so much!).

#kilixreader #xreader #kili #thehobbit #thehobbitxreader #you #x reader #kili x reader #the hobbit #imagine

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azulaang-chakras · 3 years

Note

"I want you to be a part of my future." For Azulaang

6. "I want you to be a part of my future."

Waking on a morning that followed an hour’s worth of sleep felt similar to rising after a night of ten hours. Azula’s eyes crept open slowly, like a snake in the shade looking for the sun. The first thing she wanted to do was stretch, to shake the stiffness out of her muscles. She wanted to yawn, long and loud. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to wake him.

The lemur sat curled at the foot of their bed. The heavy, rhythmic breathing of the bison from the next room pressed against the wall and spilled from the open door that connected their rooms. That Momo seemed fine with sleeping on either side of the bed now was a comforting thought. That she had grown almost reliant on the sound of Appa’s snoring to fall asleep was as bewildering to her as it was amusing.

The sounds of the Southern Air Temple came through the window on the breeze. Some of the new Air Nomads took their master’s teachings on rising and sleeping early too literally. The monks and nuns would no doubt be starting their morning meditations soon. Someone would be putting the first fruit pies into the ovens by now while also doing their best to keep the lemurs out of the kitchen. Others would be sweeping dust and fallen leaves off the temple grounds, tending to the gardens and orchards, sewing or washing clothes, cleaning dishes, all the constant, mundane labors that kept civilizations alive. She could precisely envision what one of the temple residents was doing at the moment. The girl, a fifteen-year-old who had only recently joined them, still felt that she didn’t belong, a feeling Azula knew all too well. She had caught the girl on multiple occasions looking for an extra chore to do so that the others would see her as useful. When the Nomads stopped to play their games, the girl would stand on the sidelines, too afraid to join the revelry. The master of the temple, as compassionate as he was, could be forgiven for failing to notice an individual’s crippling shyness when he had the needs of the group, the needs of the whole nation, weighing on his mind and shoulders. Azula would find her later and again encourage the girl to join one of the games. She would order her to have fun if that’s what it took.

She wasn’t their lady, as the Air Nomads knew no nobles or royals, no leaders save the wisest of their own, but she knew these people as well as a good queen knew her realm, and wanted nothing but the best for them.

Her ears took in the whole world around her. Her eyes, however, only cared for the man still sleeping in her bed.

Aang was such a peaceful sleeper, so unlike her. He preferred to sleep while embracing her, even if it meant waking up to a numb arm. She had convinced him to settle for letting one hand rest lazily on her back. The drool on his pillow chipped away at the image of the all-powerful, respectable avatar, but it amused her. It humbled him slightly, and gave her something to make fun of.

She stared at him for however long it took for him to finally wake. He blinked slowly, trying to escape the feeling that wanted him to shut his eyes again and fall back asleep. Once he made eye contact with her, though, there was no way he would allow himself to sleep in. “Hey,” he whispered, his voice deep and parched, as it was every morning. His hand slowly rubbed her back, appreciating the smoothness of her skin.

“Morning,” she replied. The way her voice sounded so soft in her ears whenever she was alone with him still surprised her. She never thought she could be this way around anyone, or that she’d find someone who made her want to be like this. What had been drilled into her since birth as a weakness had been turned by him into an invaluable power.

He could bend her perceptions and feelings as easily as if they were air and fire.

“How’d you sleep?” asked Aang, the ever attentive and caring lover.

She gave a half-hearted shrug. “I think you already know.”

She thanked Agni that last night hadn’t been particularly bad.

Aang didn’t have to be the light sleeper that he was to quickly stir awake when he slept next to her on one of her bad nights. The first time they slept together, she had thought it a miracle that she hadn’t ruined their intimate moment. The middle of the night had proven her fears well justified, when a scream erupted from her nightmares into reality.

Don’t touch me, she had thought as her tiny, shivering frame rocked in his arms that night.

Don’t let me go, had been the next thought.

Her mind had called him a liar when he assured her that she was safe, that it was going to be okay. She couldn’t deny when he reminded her that he was there for her.

Azula had never truly grown accustomed to her bad dreams, but she had once reached a point where she had accepted them, like an old warrior who accepted the poorly crafted piece of wood that had long replaced their lost leg. That had changed once she started sleeping with Aang. It had proven that the old wound she thought was finally closed was actually infected, and needed to be reopened so that it could be properly tended to.

While some minds had to rely on fantasy to craft their nightmares, Azula’s mind only needed her memories. The image of Aang writhing painfully in the air as her lightning surged through his body. The venomous, shameful smile she wore when Zuko fought father, or the way he struggled in the dirt after she struck him down. The blinding fury that had seized hold of her and almost killed Mai. She had never truly forgiven herself for any of that. Perhaps the most frustrating thing about Aang was that he had unequivocally proven that she had never started to heal. That he was willing to help her was a close second.

It made her feel cowardly and selfish, the way she had come to rely on the shelter his arms could provide her. It made her feel weak whenever she thought of how she relied on his strength to make up for her own shortcomings. It was the avatar’s duty to bring peace and balance to the world. Only the greedy princess of the Fire Nation could demand that he do the same for her.

She knew she didn’t deserve him. She also knew he disagreed with such conclusions.

“What do you want to do?” he inquired. “Sneak some breakfast out of the kitchen? Take a morning flight to the next mountain over?”

“Maybe later,” she answered. “I just want to lay here for a while longer.”

He gave her a little smile that was more welcome than the sunlight seeping through the gap between the curtains. “As you wish.”

He nestled back into bed and closed his eyes, moving a noticeable inch closer to her. Normally, a shared silence was enough, but Azula was overtaken by an impulse, one she could not ignore but wasn’t sure how to properly embrace. A healer Aang had put her in touch with, one who saw to ailments of the mind instead of the body, once counseled her to speak honestly with those she cared about. “Look at me, Aang.”

“Always,” he indulged. He turned to rest on his shoulder so that he could slip his free arm under her, enclosing her in his embrace.

A huff of a laugh escaped her nostrils. The way she would tease his romantic side never failed to please him, and the sight of his joy never failed to please her. Knowing that she had inspired such feelings in him put her in an undeniably good place.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” he asked.

She pressed a hand gently to the center of his chest. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Of course.”

She took a single, deep breath to calm her muffled nerves and find her resolve. “I spent too long not knowing what to make of you.”

“And now?”

One of the first things she had learned about Aang, when he had returned to her life to give her a chance to truly learn about the man behind the avatar, was that if she acquiesced to traveling an inch with him, he could easily convince her to travel a mile. He always wanted to hear what was on her mind, and knew just what to say to help her put words to her thoughts. “I can think of two things I’ve decided about you,” she explained.

“Would you tell me what they are?” he asked with optimistic curiosity.

“I wish you lived in a better place in my past.” If she could tear the memories from her mind, she gladly would. Even if she had to tear something good out with them, at least the intrusive, ugly images would be gone. But she couldn’t, so the bad remained with the good.

“And the second?”

Azula took a moment to study his gray eyes, the warmth of his chest as she felt it rise and fall with his breathing, the way his strong hands felt gentle against her skin. She moved her hand up until her palm covered his cheek. “I want you in my future.”

His smile widened, exposing the grin beneath. He pulled her closer until her chest met his and kissed her. Azula never wanted to know another morning when those lips weren’t there to greet her.

He only stopped to kiss her cheeks, the first stop of his lips on their familiar journey southwards. “Don’t get sappy on me, avatar,” she teased.

She could feel the satisfaction in his smile as his mouth fell against her again and again. “We’re far too late for that, princess.”

A light stream of laughter flowed from her throat, and Aang kissed every sound as it traveled up her neck.

#my fanfiction #azulaang #azulasragdoll #asks

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