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louiseleblancdiggory · 3 years

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Speedy one night stand

Ok, so this is an old scene that i never posted because I never thought it was good enough, but since I wanted to post smth before ‘Tis the Damn Season, here it goes! I’m sorry for any typos, it’s 3 am and I don’t have the patience to proof read rn. There are mentions of a car accident but I swear it is not a sad or angsty scene. It’s bad and not at all a believable situation, but I hope it’s ok enough to be mildly enjoyable!

Aelin was having a spectacular day.

She had woken up around six, laying near the hottest man to ever walk on this Earth. In the previous night, she had drank enough to practically guarantee her a bitch hangover, but apparently her beautiful, silver-haired stranger had fucked it right out of her. A few times.

Not so proudly, Aelin sneaked out of his house without making a single sound. Maybe she should have stayed, maybe asked for his name. But she was also almost sure she had given him her number yesterday, and so if he wanted to continue things, he could call her. If not… Well, it had been a fun night.

Understatement of the fucking century.

And thanks to her stranger, once she got home, Aelin felt energized and inspired enough to finally give the painting a try.

The painting had become Aelin’s nightmare for the past year and a half. She had the idea, had the ability, but didn’t know how to do it, how to tackle it. She tried a few times every few days, and left the room hating it more and more. The painting started to be a mock to her abilities— she would finish other works, beautiful works, and yet the messy canvas would always stare at her from the corner of the room.

Aelin was mainly a sculptor, not a painter, and so she didn’t even know why it bothered her so much but it did. Oh, it most certainly did.

For the past eighteen months, staring at that taunting canvas was like staring at yourself on the mirror for too long. The vision started to blur, and it didn’t look real, evoked a deep panic.

For the past eighteen months, Aelin hated that fucking painting.

And yet, when she got home earlier, all she could think is that she might be able to finish it. The painting was supposed to be of Oakwald, a beautiful forest that extended for the whole expanse of the west of Terrasen. She hadn’t been at home for so long now, and all she wanted was a painting of how she remembered the forest to be. She wanted to capture its light, its life. She wanted it to look exactly how it was in her memory, but the colors never seemed right. Her fondness of the memory was becoming stained with that stupid canvas.

All she needed was the right palette.

And he had walked in a bar and sat by her side yesterday.

Her stranger was the literal embodiment of her memory, so much so that for a split second, Aelin had thought she had gone officially insane. His silver-grey hair was the exact shade of the sky on the cloudy mornings when she and her dad would go for a walk. Eyes a combination of a few shades of green and small specks of brown that reminded her of how the trees were. His demeanor was cold, and yet Aelin found him somehow so welcoming— just like she felt back at Oakwald, back home.

Her stranger had given her the thing she had needed for the past eighteen months, even if he hadn’t given her even his name.

Aelin was staring proudly at the now finished painting when the phone rang. She was glad her roommate wasn’t at home to witness her staring at the painting for that long like a crazy person, and honestly hoped it was Lysandra calling to ask if she wanted to go out and grab something to eat.

Or maybe it’s your stranger.

Aelin forced herself to shove every single spark of hope down until they were nothing more than cinders. To be honest, Aelin knew that she probably wouldn’t get a call from him. It was his first day in town, they both had been drunk, and, even though the sex had been great, her stranger didn’t seem like the dating type.

At least not the dating type with a woman who left his house unannounced at six in the morning after leaving him with no note other than her number that could potentially be wrong since said woman was already tipsy when she gave it to him.

A fucking shame.

“Hey.” Aelin said, putting the phone to her ear as she looked for her car keys. She wanted to be in the elevator by the time the word “eat” left Lys’s mouth.

“Is this Aelin?” A female voice she had never heard in her life asked, uncertainty and hesitation lacing every word.

Aelin withdrew the phone from her ear and looked at the unknown number.

Aelin rarely gave her phone number to strangers, and lately it had only been to…

Oh fucking shit.

He had a girlfriend?

Fuck fuck fuck.

“Hum, yes?” Aelin sounded as uncertain as the girl. “I’m sorry, but who is this?”

Maybe it wasn’t what she thought. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe—

“Do you know a Rowan?”

Well.

“Maybe?” Aelin wanted to bang her head against a wall. Almost seven months without touching a guy, and the first one in her way back to the land of the social people had a girlfriend. At least she knew his name now. Rowan seemed fitting, matched his appearance somehow. “Silver hair, green eyes, looks really pissed even when he’s sleeping?”

Please say no.

“Oh, yes.” The woman said, sounding… relieved? “I’m doctor Towers, and—“

“Doctor?” Aelin blurted out, all anger and nervousness being substituted for confusion. “Doctor?”

“Yes. Well, actually an intern since I’m still halfway through my first year here and—“

“I swear I mean no offense, but I am a little confused.” Aelin interrupted her after she started mumbling. “You’re Rowan’s girlfriend?”

“No!” The woman shouted loud enough that Aelin had to take the phone from her ear. “Gods, no. I thought you were his girlfriend.”

A moment of silence passed through the two women.

“What the fuck?” Was everything Aelin managed to say. She cleared her throat, mind trying to catch up with what was happening. “Why would you think that?”

“You’re the only contact on his phone.”

“I am?”

“You are.”

“I am.”

“You are.”

“I— Why are you calling me?” Aelin shook her head, her grip on her keys strong enough that started to be painful. She didn’t know if this was some type of joke her friends were pulling on her, or if Rowan was just some sick asshole that was fucking with her now that he had her number but she sure as hell wasn’t enjoying the experience.

“Well, you see.” She cleared her throat, voice tone becoming more serious, more professional. “Rowan was admitted into the Torre’s hospital a few hours ago. He was involved in an accident, and all the emergency contacts we could find are not in town as of now. I know it is not protocol, and I’m breaking so many rules here, but I went through his phone to see if I could find a contact of someone who was around. We didn’t know if his injuries were serious or not, but…”

Doctor Towers didn’t finish the sentence, and dread mixing with some type of anxiety started rolling inside Aelin’s stomach. “But?”

She didn’t respond the question, instead changing the subject. “You’re the only contact, Miss Aelin.”

Aelin slowly sat down, the dead silence of the apartment mixing with the expectant silence from Doctor Towers. She didn’t know the guy, didn’t even know his name until two minutes ago, and yet the image of the painting in the other room kept flashing in her mind, the colors in the canvas mixing with the colors she saw on his face. “I— Is he alive?”

“Yes, yes. He’s in surgery, I believe.” The initial apprehension came back to the woman’s voice. “I don’t know, actually. Again, just an intern. People don’t tell me much here.”

“And I suppose hiding somewhere after stealing a patient’s phone isn’t the best way to pick up on any information they might be sharing in the halls right now.” Aelin said, some amusement for the girl showing through her voice. “Where are you? Storage room?”

“Coma patient room.” Doctor Towers laughed nervously. “I thought I was helping.”

“It’s fine.” Aelin said even though she didn’t feel it.

The line went silent once more, and after a minute, Aelin said. “Well, bye, I guess.”

“Wait.” The doctor’s apprehensive voice sounded again. “Couldn’t you… Can you still come? Even if you’re just his friend?”

Aelin sat frozen on her chair. “I’m not his friend.”

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “Ok. Sorry. Have a great night, Miss Aelin.”

Before Aelin could respond, the call was ended.

—————

The first thing Rowan noticed when he opened his eyes was that he was not at the rented apartment he and the rest of his friends had gotten for the summer.

The lights were too white and too artificial, the bed too uncomfortable to be the same one he had slept the previous night.

And there was also the fact it felt as if he had been thrown from the top of a building, broken every single bone in the impact and, somehow, survived.

He tried opening his eyes a little bit more and acute pain shot to his brain.

Unfortunately. Unfortunately survived.

Shit, maybe he was in hell.

“I don’t know if the struggle is amusing or pathetic.” A low and sultry voice sounded from the left corner of the room. “Maybe try not staring directly into the light and then try opening your eyes.”

Rowan turned his head to where the soft voice had come from, pain burning his neck with the movement but he found himself incapable of not looking at her direction. But the woman was right, and Rowan managed to open his eyes enough to see her seating in one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs, legs crossed in front of her and fingers laced on top of her stomach.

Rowan mentally scratched his last thought. If he had actually died, that certainly was tilting a lot more towards heaven than hell even with the killing pain.

“Fuck, I think I died.” Rowan blurted out.

“I’ll pretend you just compared me to an angel, not to the devil.” She said, getting up and walking in his direction. Despite her hurt tone, she was smiling as she approached his bed. “It’s the least you could do after you ruined my perfectly perfect day. I was having a blast, you know?”

Hell, heaven, or Earth— it honestly didn’t fucking matter because the pain was the same, but her voice seemed to soothe his muscled, make the pain secondary to the pleasure of listening to her voice.

“Yeah?” Rowan rasped out, hoping she would continue talking.

“Oh, yeah.” She sat by the edge of the bed, straightening his sheets. The light wasn’t so blinding anymore, and he could see every detail on her face.

Heaven. Definitely heaven.

“I’m an artist, you know. Sculptor mostly, but I’m a decent painter. There’s this painting I’ve been trying to get done for over a year now, and today I did not only make progress I liked, but I also finished it. I thought today was going to be a terrible day, you know? Yesterday I found out my flight back home had been canceled and I would only be able to get another one by the end of summer, so I went to a bar and planned on getting drunk. Today was a day for tears and hangovers.”

“But?” Rowan asked automatically, all too focused on the woman sitting next to him.

She smiled, raising a hand to brush his hair from his face, fingers intertwining with the shoulder-length knots he most certainly had after whatever it was that had happened. She seemed too focused on her hand gently undoing the knots, but thankfully kept talking. “But I met this guy, you know? Definitely not from here, accent gave it away immediately. Also not from where I am from. Just that made him interesting enough. And,” she turned her eyes to him, eyes glinting with mischief. “Very, very fucking hot. That definitely made him even more interesting.”

“What a guy.” Rowan could feel some of the life coming back to his body, and even managed to weakly match the grin she had on her face.

“Oh, yes, what a guy. Fucked the hangover and artistic block right out of me. A hero, if you will.” Her grin extended into a smile, and she shook her head. “So imagine how ruined my day was when I got a call saying my amazing bar guy had been in a car accident.”

Rowan let out a broken laugh, his ribs screaming in pain when he did so. “So irresponsible of him.”

She assented solemnly. “And there I was, hoping he would have called me to go out on a date. I’m not picky but hospital is a huge downgrade from mind blowing sex in his expensive apartment.”

Rowan laughed again, not even caring about the pain. “I’m sure the guy would have asked you if you hand’t left the expensive apartment at the crackass of dawn without telling him.”

“And instead of calling he let his car be smashed by a fucking truck to get my attention? Tsk, tsk, tsk… Maybe I didn’t dodge a bullet with this idiot.”

Rowan’s lips were taken by a grin. “Well it worked, didn’t it?”

“Next time try something a little less dramatic.” She said, eyes narrowing but Rowan could see how she was trying to contain a smile.

“The girl really seemed into dramatics tho. Gave it away last night when she—“

“Since I didn’t know your name until your doctor called me, Rowan, I’ll save you the embarrassment of asking mine.” She interrupted him, slender fingers going from his hair to the top of his lips. “I’m Aelin.”

“Aelin.” He said against the finger sushing him. “May I ask how you got here?”

She blushed a little, taking the finger from his mouth and straightening her spine. “I was the only contact in your list. They called me.”

“Lost my phone in the airport yesterday and had to buy a new one. Still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, small nose frowning. “You’re very talkative for someone who could barely open his eyes a few minutes ago.”

“Am I?” Rowan said, hoping to push some of her buttons. Consciousness had been coming back slowly, and Rowan certainly remembered every single detail. Remembered being pissed by losing his phone, impatient because he would have to wait two more days for his friends to arrive.

Remembered all the pissy and impatience leaving his body once he sat on the bar by the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She had been quick-mouthed, with no filter, and absolutely hypnotizing. She wasn’t just fucking beautiful, but also funny, smart, and had the ability to make him forget every single thing that was making him irritated.

And the rest of the night… It was a shame Rowan was bedridden, he certainly wouldn’t mind reenacting last night again.

And again. And again.

And again.

Rowan had wondered earlier if she had been that amazing because he was drunk. The answer was obviously no.

Aelin pursed her lips, red coloring her cheeks. She cleared her throat, rolling her eyes. “The doctor guilty tripped me.”

“Yeah?” Rowan knew he was smiling like an idiot.

“She said you were in surgery and she didn’t know how serious.” Aelin finally looked him straight in the eyes, and Rowan noticed how beautiful hers were. “No one deserves to have no one in this situation. She said your friends were out of town, and the girl sounded desperate enough that it sounded as if you were fucking died. Again, no one deserves to die alone. Specially someone this good in bed.”

It took Rowan a second to understand everything she had just said. When the last sentence finally registered on his brain, Rowan laughed. Aelin shook her head, a small smile appearing again.

“Also, you’re the first guy I slept with in seven months. Letting you die alone seemed like bad luck.”

“I am honored you put so much consideration into coming to stay with me.”

“Shut it.”

“If it makes you feel less embarrassed—“

“I’m not embarrassed.”

“I would have come too. Make sure my best fuck wasn’t dead.”

“Awn, best fuck? You’ll make me tear up like this, Ro. So romantic.” Aelin pretended to clean fake tears the moment the doctor in darker scrubs and a few on lighter ones entered the room.

“Good to see you awake, Mr Whitethorn.” The man smiled at him, checking his charts. “It’s always good to see wives crying of happiness rather than sadness around here.”

“Of course.” Rowan agreed, turning to Aelin and raising an eyebrow.

“They wouldn’t let me stay if I wasn’t family.” She whispered low enough so that only Rowan would hear. Her face slowly broke into a grin, and she winked at him before turning to the doctor. “So he’ll be fine, right, doctor?”

Rowan had to bite his cheeks from laughing at how obviously fake she sounded, but no one other than him noticed. “Yes, yes. Other than a fracture to his right wrist, your husband is completely fine. Some bruising and soreness that painkillers can help, but nothing major. You two are free to enjoy your vacations when he’s discharged tomorrow.”

“Oh, great.” Rowan said, nodding seriously. “My wife here has just informed me that a hospital is no adequate place for a first date.”

All the people in the room laughed, thinking Rowan meant their first date in Antica.

Not their first date ever.

“I’ll leave you two. Anything you need, ask a nurse and they will page me.” The doctor in darker scrubs said, leaving the room with all the ones in lighter scrubs following.

“Where do you live?” Rowan asked the moment the doctor was out.

Aelin turned to him, fingers going back to his silver hair. “Have been living here for the past two years in an art internship. Going back to Orynth, Terrasen by the end of the summer.” She curled a strand around her finger before looking to his face. “You?”

“Have been and will continue to be a very happy resident of Orynth.” Rowan said, a smirk appearing on his lips. “Definitely happier after the summer.”

“Haven’t even asked me out and you’re already thinking about the end of the summer.” Aelin shook her head and clicked her tongue even though she was smiling. “No surprise you got into a car accident, so speedy.”

His smirk grew into a smile. “My dear wife, would you like to go on a date with me?”

She narrowed her eyes, taking her sweet, sweet time to answer. “I’ll think about it.”

“And, seeing how the doctor talked about all my grave injuries—“

“Grave.” She snorted.

“Do I get kisses to feel better?” Rowan’s tone was full of mockery and some laughter.

“If I kiss every place you’re hurting after being hit by a fucking truck, I think we’d be here for a long while.”

“You didn’t complain yesterday.”

Aelin half laughed, half snorted. Rolling her eyes, she bent forward, and even though she was trying very hard not to, Rowan could see the start of a smile just before she pressed her lips against his. They were sweeter and softer than he remembered, and despite the pain on his arms and specially on his right wrist, Rowan raised his hands and put them in her golden strawberry hair.

“One more thing.” He said against her mouth.

“Has anyone ever told you that you ask for too much?” Aelin said impatiently.

“As our situation is already as fucking weird as it’s gonna get—“

“You don’t say!” Aelin said, voice dripping with so much fake surprise Rowan couldn’t stop but smirk up at her.

“As our situation is already as fucking weird as it’s gonna get,” he repeated forcefully, eyes narrowing at her as her smile widened. “Tomorrow, when my friends arrive.”

“Yes?”

“Can you please still pretend you’re my wife?”

Aelin stared at him blankly for a moment before letting out a full, lovely laugh. The bed shook with her laughter, and Rowan joined her— a little weakly due to the pain, but joined her nonetheless. She bent down to kiss him again, nodding as she did so. “Of course. What type of person would I be if I didn’t help such injured person find some happiness in their lives?”

Rowan kissed her back, fingers playing with her hair. “So this means you’ll go out with me?”

“We’ll see.”

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @annejulianneh111 @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @loveofbooksandwine @jesstargaryenqueen @bluejaberry @multifandommessblog @yesdreamblog @superspiritfestival @ireallyshouldsleeprn @woollycat22 @julemmaes @claralady @abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass @heirofthenightcourt @booksbqueen @heirofthrnightcourt004 @fromthelibraryofemilyj @rowaelinismyotp

* if your name is in bold i cannot tag you

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floutua · 5 years

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just you

this was inspired by the worst coffee I have ever tried this month (and it hasn’t even been a week yet!). In case anyone is wondering, this is an AU. Both reader and Five are high school students. I hope you enjoy this. Sorry for any mistakes - I’m still learning English.

p/s: in case anyone is wondering, i will also cross-post this to my wattpad.

Pushing your hair behind your ear, you try your hardest to concentrate on what your teacher is currently talking about but somehow, you can’t, and it isn’t because of the lack of effort from you. It is mostly because of the pair of eyes you feel burning a hole at the back of your head. Your ears and cheeks grew hot – if it isn’t for the fact that the room is airconditioned, you would have thought the weather is far too hot today – and while your stomach twists uncomfortably, at the back of your head, you have an inkling as to who it is that has been constantly staring at you.

Gingerly glancing over your shoulder, you let out a small gasp when your eyes meet that of Five’s and your cheeks flushed deeper. The corner of Five’s lips lifts up dangerously and your heart thumps against your chest and you immediately turn to look at your teacher, willing your beating heart to calm down.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Your teacher calls out from the front and this causes you to startle, banging your knee on the desk, making a few of your classmates giggle at your actions. You swallow the curse that threatened to leave your mouth and rub the stinging knee, nodding your head at your teacher’s question. “Are you sure?” She asks as she approaches your table. “You are looking far too red in this cold classroom. Let me write you a pass and go rest in the Nurse’s room.” She turns around to head back to her table to grab the pass.

You swallow the lump in your throat and quickly pack all of your belongings. As you head towards your teacher, you can still feel Five’s eyes on your back and you bite the inside of your cheek as you quietly thank your teacher, rushing out of your classroom.

The moment you left the room, you suddenly feel like you could breathe again. The pressure from having Five’s intense stare on you ever since the start of the class had felt almost suffocating, even if you somehow enjoyed the attention. Shaking your head, you headed down the hallway towards the Nurse’s office.

Five. Five Hargreeves. The teen who comes to school wearing his pressed school uniform, hair slick back and looking like he just came out of a photoshoot or the likes. The school’s supposed resident bad boy – the only difference between Five and the rest of them is that he had a brain actually knows how to use it; in fact, despite his supposed character, Five has placed number one in the school’s total ranking a multiple number of times (so you have heard).

Honestly, you don’t understand why people found him so devilishly handsome and likeable despite his bad boy persona. There were so many rumours flying around that you can’t even differentiate between the truths and the lies and thus, you have tried your hardest to keep away from him. Which in hindsight is probably not a good idea because you reckon the reason why his focus is all on you because of your avoidance.

(However, deep down inside, you kind of see why people liked Five to the point of being able to see past his bad boy image; he is devilishly handsome (this you have to agree a hundred percent on) and he also had that stupid, beautiful smile that made everyone (you included) swoon. Although, if asked, you probably would not be admitting this out loud to anyone and yes, if it isn’t obvious by now, you actually have some feelings for Five).

When you reach the nurse’s office, she led you over to a bed and told you to rest as much as you needed. Quietly thanking the nurse, you set your bag by the bed side table and took off your shoes, climbing in the bed. Pulling the covers up to your chin, you slowly drifted off to the thoughts of Five Hargreeves.

You aren’t sure how long you have been asleep because by the time you woke up, you feel very well rested and a little bit sluggish. You blink a couple of times, trying to will the sleep away from you. Once you are slightly more aware of your surroundings, you push the covers away and slowly sit up, only to startle when your eyes land on Five… who is sleeping soundly, slumped over the chair beside your bed.

Your cheeks flush once again as you stare at Five in disbelief. He actually looks very serene and still devilishly handsome despite sleeping on the chair. You must have been staring at him for far too long because Five suddenly stirs. He slowly straightens up and brings a hand to rub his eyes. When he drops his hand, he turns to look at you and your breath gets stolen away when Five gives you a very soft smile – at this point, you are glad you are on the bed because if you have been standing, your knees would probably have given out and you would have embarrassed yourself further.

“Hi.” You squeak out, suddenly feeling extremely nervous. Despite sharing a few classes with Five, this is actually the first time you have ever talked to him directly.

Five chuckles before he moves off of the chair and sits on the edge of your bed. “Are you alright now?” He is quite close to the point where you can actually feel the heat and cologne radiating off of him and you had to swallow multiple times before nodding your head, not trusting your voice at all. Five raises an eyebrow before he lifts one of his hands to your face.

The blush on your face deepens the moment Five cups your chin – he smirks at your reaction – and gently lifts up your face so that he can get a better look of your face. “You are looking pretty red now, Y/N. Are you sure you’re alright?” He teases, moving his hand away from your chin to cup your cheek instead.

Your eyes widen slightly as your gaze follows his hand. “W – What – Are you playing with me?” You stammer, looking away from his hand to look at him. Your eyes widen once more when you realize that while you had been busy staring at his hand, Five had leaned very close – to the point where you can actually feel his breath on your skin.

Five chuckles and as he leans in, you squeeze your eyes shut, heart racing wildly against your chest. Just when you think he is going to kiss you (finally?), you feel his warm lips on your forehead instead and your eyes shot open. Five pulls back, curling your hair behind your ears. “I think we got off at the wrong foot; do you want to go have some coffee with me? I know a place in town that serves the best damn coffee.” He asks you quietly; if it isn’t for the fact that he is very close to you, you probably would not have heard him.

Blushing furiously, you bite the inside of your cheek, contemplating his offer. You really didn’t have much to lose – other than your heart and probably your dignity.

Five stares at you, trying to gauge your expression; honestly speaking, Five has taken a liking to you ever since he saw you at one of the recitals his sister Vanya made him attend. He had been so entranced with the way you were playing that the rest of his siblings did not stop making fun of him and teasing him for being ‘star struck’. It was only after Vanya told him the basics about you that he finally realizes just how many classes the two of you shared together and his feelings for you grew from a simple superficial crush to something much more – Five doesn’t quite love you yet but he reckons he could probably easily fall in love with you. “Y/N?”

You shyly nod your head and Five exhales loudly before he smiles at you. “Last period is almost over. How about we go together after this?” Five can’t stop the smile on his face from spreading and you nod your head.

“Y – yeah, that’s, uh, fine. I just need to inform my mum that I’ll be back later than planned.” You tell him and Five smiles, leaning forward to press his lips on your temple and you shiver slightly, feeling a smile slowly spreading on your face.

“It’s a date then.”

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otonymous · 5 years

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Colours (MLQC Lucien - NSFW)

Description: Lucien has an obsession with photography. Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised. Very minor spoilers for the main plot only up to Chapter 5. Potential trigger warning: light bondage. Word Count: 1576 words (~8 mins of smut) AO3: read here Author’s Notes: The legendary Lucien thirst continues and is mighty hard to quench, so here’s another story from yours truly.

This particular piece was inspired by Lucien’s Archive karma card and its accompanying Moments post:

As like before, I’m currently stuck on Chapter 8, so apologies once again to the readers who have advanced further in the game if Lucien seems out of character. Happy reading!

Tagging: @kitsune-mana (because I know you feel the same way about our Shady Sweetheart™!)

All characters & Mr Love: Queen’s Choice owned by Elex

“Lucien…”

Her moan echoed still in his ears, hauntingly dulcet even as the chemicals washed over the film — particles rearranging into an image of her in black and white, legs parted and draped over the side of his bed. Beckoning.

The professor’s practiced hand moved the tongs gently though the bath, liquid chemistry swirling like memories to gradually reveal more of the woman who had become his life, each picture adding another piece to the tantalizing puzzle:

Supple flesh spilling from delicate lace cups.

Fishnets encasing the thighs he loved to lick.

Brows raised in surprise when her panties tore with a single yank of his hand.

Holding each photo aloft, Lucien added to the collection hung with care throughout his darkroom like the stills of some classic Hollywood film — the same ones he sat through in the early morning hours at the cinema, patiently waiting for day to break. And on the night that Audrey Hepburn raced through the streets of Rome with a besotted Gregory Peck across the silver screen, he found her sleeping in the second seat three rows back, hair obscuring her face then much as it did in the photo in his hand: a memento of her ecstasy…and his obsession.

For Lucien was fascinated with her, with the way hesitation had mixed with desire in her eyes the day he examined her through the aperture of his camera. His thighs had straddled her hips as she lay writhing in anticipation beneath him. A butterfly pinned.

“Lucien, what are you—“

“Didn’t you say you were interested in seeing one of the world’s few remaining film cameras? I can think of no better subject to demonstrate the beauty of the photos it can take.”

One hand reached out to cradle her face as she relented in amused exasperation, and through the lens, Lucien saw her turn to nudge towards his caress, lips parting to suck his index finger deeply into her mouth.

“Face the camera and look at me,” he commanded, his voice a low growl as he pushed another digit past her lips.

She obeyed, eyes wide as she struggled and failed to contain the saliva that trickled down her chin as Lucien slid his fingers in and out of that pretty mouth.

Snap.

The click of the shutter brought her back to her senses, and her embarrassment grew along with the blush on her cheeks. Anticipating her protests, Lucien removed his hand to slowly drag a glistening trail of spit past the soft notch of her neck and between her collarbones, descending until the tips came to rest within the warmth of her cleavage.

And with one deft movement, the front clasp of her bra came undone, the tension in the straps giving way to allow black lace to part like curtains in a theatre, unblemished skin unveiled before the eyes of a hungry audience.

Snap.

Lowering his camera, Lucien bent over and pressed his nose to the exposed flesh. And as he inhaled deeply to savour the sweet smell, the buzzing at the back of his brain grew in intensity.

Was this what it was like to feel intoxicated?

She wove her hands into his hair, gently tugging the dark strands closer to her heaving chest as his tongue drew slow circles about her nipples. He then stopped, blew softly on the dampened skin, and admired the way they puckered beautifully before pulling away.

Snap.

“Now you’re just purposely teasing me.”

There was a sharp edge to her voice that drew his attention as well as his camera. He captured the frustration written on her face, admiring the way her shapely brows furrowed in irritation. While he lived for her contentment, the devil on his shoulder constantly sought to tease her into submission.

For Lucien wanted, needed, her completely — mind, body and soul.

He kissed her deeply in apology before stopping to wind his camera, saying,

“When it comes to you, my love, I am nothing but serious.”

Snap.

Bashfulness. Wonder. His words elicited such emotions in her eyes that Lucien was momentarily relieved to have been looking at her through the viewfinder of a camera. To meet that gaze directly would have been tantamount to relinquishing all control over the beast that raged within to claim her roughly, savagely. And the professor knew it was impossible to appease such an insatiable appetite, for even in her presence, Lucien hungered for her still.

So his camera continued to pan down her body, the shutter clicking away in succession as he tried to capture her in entirety: the dips and curves of her stomach and hips, the sheen of the garter straps that lay against her skin like a bow upon a gift, the silk that gathered the moisture between her legs to cling tellingly against her folds.

“Such a good girl. You wore the fishnet stockings like I asked. Now spread yourself for me.”

Kneeling by the side of the bed, he readied his camera, feeling himself twitch as he gazed upon her gingerly parting legs, reaching out a hand to softly bat hers away when she moved to cover up the middle. Then, adjusting his lens, Lucien focused on the fine mesh laying atop her thighs.

Snap.

The shot in hand, he bent to kiss them immediately, lips picking up a subtle increase in temperature as they moved towards their insides. And when the heat became too intense, he ran his tongue along their lengths in a bid to cool them down, the tip tracing along the geometry of her stockings.

“Oh god, Lucien…”

Her voice trailed off as she gripped the sheets until her knuckles turned white, the sensation maddeningly ticklish and arousing all at once. While she couldn’t be sure if she wanted to laugh or cry, the professor read her body loud and clear by the way her hips lifted off the bed.

Relenting, Lucien reached for his collar — one hand unbuttoning his shirt as the other continued to hold the camera. His mind worked continuously, contemplating how best to set up his next shot even as his clothing slipped from broad, muscular shoulders.

“Hold still, baby. We don’t want any blurred shots, now do we?”

He watched her lips tremble at the touch of his hand between her legs, the pads of his fingers becoming increasingly damp with each languid stroke along hot silk. Heard her gasp amidst the tearing of fabric as the remnants of her underwear fell away to leave her bare. Caught the intoxicating scent of her arousal when he brought the lens up close to capture the dew that clung to blushing petals.

And when he could stand it no longer, he allowed himself a taste of her nectar.

He ignored it, that voice in the back of his mind that warned him to stay away, to remain indifferent and objective. For he was already well past the point of no return, hopelessly addicted to her flavour on his tongue. And he became a man unhinged.

“Do you trust me?”

Lucien asked, barely able to keep his voice from trembling as he rose to full height, placing the camera beside her head as he busied himself with the buckle of his belt. He smiled to see her nod, not one ounce of trepidation in her eyes as she replied,

“I do.”

“That’s my girl.”

Smoothly sliding his leather belt from his trousers, he looped it around her wrists, binding them together as he fixed the other end to his headboard. Gaze never straying from her face, the professor shed the rest of his clothing, trying to maintain some semblance of control even as he felt it spiralling away to see her bite her lip in desire as his erection sprung free.

“Come to me, Lucien.”

Her voice was soft and inviting, and the irony of the situation didn’t escape him: bound though she was, he was the one under her full control.

One stockinged leg thrown over each shoulder, Lucien filled her over and over again, his hips relentless as they pounded into her flesh so hard the bed shook. He could see that she was becoming overwhelmed, her moans giving way long ago to breathless pants in a struggle to keep up with him. But there was nothing to be done about it now, for he was completely lost in chasing the tight wet heat of her pussy.

The dim red lamp in the darkroom flickered, bringing Lucien back to the present. He looks at the photo in his hand, smiling as he savours it like a fine wine: her face contorted in pleasure as she came undone around him.

“You almost made me drop the camera,” he says to no one in particular.

Then, he sets about developing the final photo, his pièce de résistance. The image starts to appear, angled due to the way she turned the camera back on themselves, excited to be taking a selfie on film. And despite his warnings that it may not turn out, he humours her in her post-coital giddiness, pressing close enough to get into the frame, his lips upon her cheek.

And he was right, most of the photo was a blur.

But her face was in sharp focus, and her smile was bright. And for Lucien, that was enough to turn black and white into a world of colour.

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Thanks for reading! Check out more of my work here! 📚

#mlqc #mr love: queen's choice #love and producer #mlqc lucien #mlqc fanfic #mlqc fic #mlqc smut #mr love queen's choice smut #love and producer smut #fanfiction #my writing #elex

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starspatter · 5 years

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WIP Challenge

Tagged by: @summertime-children

Tagging: @astrologista, @atsushishelteredinmoonlitjasmine, @benditlikegumby, @cryptoriawebb, @ibmiller, @iceperialprincess, and @otherwise-uncolonized

Challenge: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.

I'll also do what deta did and post comments + short fragments. (Be warned it'll be very long though, and most of these are actually Pokémon fics since I was a much more prolific writer when I was younger, and that was the fandom I wrote mainly for.) I also won't be including "Heroes and Thieves" on here (or any DC/superhero stuff really since I’ve essentially “done” everything I had planned for now), as *technically* it is all already completed in draft form, and I'd like to keep things a surprise for whenever I do end up posting~

Hero and Seek

“Well, we’re all together now, so let’s have some fun, all right? Don’t worry, it’s really simple. One person is the ‘demon’, and the others have to hide from him.” “Eh? A ‘demon’? But that’s scary!” Three pairs of eyes turned up to her in fear. Those eyes, which screamed and streamed the stark color of blood the first time she saw them – not just from tears, but from the ‘monster’ they believed dwelled deep within. She thought for a moment, then removed her scarf. “How about this then? Whoever’s the ‘hero’ has to find and rescue the others. It’s a very important Blindfold Brigade mission!”

I’ll start with the one Kagepro fic I did attempt at least, which I described previously here, but is basically about Ayano + the Meka Trio playing “Hide and Seek” for the first time. (I actually had it originally titled as that but just came up with this new version on the spot lol I’m so clever~) For some reason I’ve always been hesitant about reading/writing Kagefic, but I actually got a fair bit farther in this than I thought, so perhaps I should try to finish it someday... Princes and Frogs

“K-Koizumi-senpai… Um… Please go out with me!” Itsuki stared down at the tiny underclassman, watching a rose mantle spread slowly over her cheeks as she gazed back with shy, but determined hope in her bespectacled eyes. The older boy could make out his own handsome face reflected off the lens, a virtual image embellished by sparkling hearts and stars. With dim satisfaction and relief, Itsuki ensured that his bright, patient smile betrayed no hint of the weary sigh that whispered behind it.

This is an intro excerpt of the first chapter I planned to write for an ItsuHaru fic from The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya, which I only ever posted the prologue for. ItsuHaru was my first obsessive OTP, and I still think about returning to this story someday (especially since I have now proven to myself I *can* finish a full chapter fic if I put my mind to it), but it’s been so long I feel like I’d need to refresh my memory of the whole series/am still holding out hope for a Season 3 to motivate me again. *shot*

Fall to Pieces

As Itsuki stared at Yuki’s vacant visage, his resentment kept building. His hands clenched, rigidly gripping the edge of the table. Somehow, it just didn’t seem fair. That she could so easily ignore the madness fate had dealt them, never reveal any signs of suffering or bitterness towards her situation, and yet always, always wear the same damn expression on her face. How could she possibly stand it? He can’t stand it. (any more)

An ItsuYuki one-shot, where Itsuki basically blows up at her from pent-up frustration over having to wear a mask all the time and his hidden feelings for Haruhi. The two start to form a connection over their respective “unrequited loves”/understanding of each other’s pain, and one thing leads to another... Like “Heroes and Thieves”, this is in fact technically “complete”, since I actually used the leftover steam from the former towards finishing at least one thing I started a long time ago - although I’m still not sure I’m totally satisfied with it/kinda want to wait to figure out what I’m doing with my other ItsuHaru fics before I publish it by itself. (Incidentally the working title comes from an Avril Lavigne song lol.)

Little White Lies

“Perhaps the best thing for the princess would have been to fall in love. But how a princess who had no gravity could fall into anything is a difficulty--perhaps the difficulty.” -George MacDonald, The Light Princess - Haruhi Suzumiya was walking on air. Itsuki could tell by the way she glided into the clubroom, sailing like a paper airplane – or a balloon with an inflated ego to match.

...Yeah that’s as far as I got with this. This was meant to be a “White Day” story, which is Japan’s “answer holiday” to Valentine’s Day, where guys reciprocate by giving gifts to the girls who gave them chocolates. I always wondered how the boys actually responded in-universe, and I imagine Itsuki secretly stressing out a lot about taking care to not upstage Kyon, but at the same time wanting to sincerely express his genuine appreciation and feelings towards Haruhi - whatever they may be. In the end, he settles on a copy of “The Light Princess” by George MacDonald, which I highly recommend reading since it reminds me so much of this pair, and in general is such a fun and snappy “tongue-in-cheek” take on the fairytale genre. Sora in Wonderland

But wait- this one was a bit different from all its brothers and sisters. For one thing, it was wearing a fancy waistcoat with pockets- and sleeves that were far too long for it. As soon as it passed by her head, it stopped and slowly turned its head around to stare directly at her with its huge circular yellow eyes. Sora stared vacantly back for a full five seconds before the information registered in her brain and she suddenly yelled, “Hey!”, and sat bolt upright. The Heartless panicked upon hearing her voice and fled at top speed across the white sands, headed towards an opening in the rocks; Sora jumped down off her perch and immediately chased after it, no longer caring about the heat. The Heartless hastily disappeared inside the cave, and Sora soon followed after, determined to catch the freaky little thing and ask it some questions, like what it was doing on the island at this time, and where on earth did it get a waistcoat.

OKAY SO I TOTALLY FORGOT THIS WAS A THING but apparently I tried to write a Kingdom Hearts parody of “Alice in Wonderland” lmao. I’ve never actually played the games (aside from half of CoM), but it was probably inspired by a crossover art my friend drew? ^^; Also Sora is a girl in this bc that’s my headcanon and I’m sticking to it. XP *shot* Note: The following fics are all Pokémon-related so I’ll just be listing them in roughly chronological order (from most recent to ancient, although they’re all pretty old at this point). Stranger

The elder slowly rose to his feet, gazing at the boy, the champion, the stranger. “In all this time, why didn’t you come back? You could have seen for yourself how she was.” Lance wanted to yell something defiant, like a child. But he wasn’t a child. Children were forgiven for their mistakes. And he didn’t want to be forgiven. The professor’s ancient hand came to rest on the boy’s shoulder. “It’s the way this town works. We don’t talk about things that happen outside our own world. Maybe it was too long ago – too late for you to understand.” Lance didn’t say anything. “At least talk to Delia. She’s been wanting to see you.” “Sorry. It’s too late.” “You’re a bastard.” “I know.”

So this looks to be among the last things I’d written before taking a long break from fanfiction circa... 2007, jeeze. Over 10 years, huh. But, I think it speaks a certain amount of maturity that it’s the piece I liked most upon rediscovering. It’s based on an idea I once had that Lance was (unknowingly) Gary Oak’s father, and he was friends/rivals with Ash’s father, who originally won the title of Champion but relinquished it so he could be with his “wife” and kid (or rather, then-pregnant teenage girlfriend). *Something* happened though (I forget what I had in mind) and he ended up dying, leaving Lance bitter and depressed so he refused to return to Pallet Town because of too many painful memories. (Though he *cough* “comforted” their other female childhood friend for one night of drunken grief before he left. ;() What I like most about it honestly is the parallels bw Lance’s relationship with Ash’s dad and their sons’, and that amidst all the angst I enjoyed portraying the earnest energy and optimism of Ketchum(?) senior (”like father like son” after all). I was definitely inspired by Mitsuki’s father in Full Moon wo Sagashite/Maes Hughes from Fullmetal Alchemist by making him a total “dork dad” who’d brag about his (illegitimate) family on national TV during the championship tournament lol.

Ihavenoidea

Either way, I get the feeling this really wasn’t what I had in mind when I made my decision to quit training. I mean that in an intuitive sort of way. Like, sometimes I feel as if I’m not meant to be here, like my life should have ended up differently someplace else. Perhaps this is just one of those weird inconsistencies I told you about. Perhaps not. Even after all that’s happened to me recently, I still can’t really be sure about it.

...No seriously, I have no idea where I was going with this. As far as I can tell it’s written from the POV of Gary Oak, whom I’ve always had a lot of... “complicated” feelings towards. It probably has something to do with another concept I’ll discuss next, although for some reason it sounds like I was going for some sort of AU? *shrug* By contrast to the above, it reads like a whiny teenager complaining about his life - which makes me cringe but is probably an accurate portrayal of who I was at the time. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ This one was actually dated a little after the previous, so my best guess is it was some kind of vent rant where I would “give up” writing/creating and “childish” ideals for a while, as I was wont to do - but I still always come back to it somehow... RainbowMolly

Molly stepped out from the car and onto the dusty road, her heart beating wildly. She could hardly believe she was actually here, of all places. The ride had been long and mind-numbing with anticipation, and now that they’d finally arrived at the destination, it all felt somewhat surreal to her. A small bear clambered out from the vehicle, joining her as she stopped to take in the rustic view that met her bright blue eyes. She smiled and picked up her Teddiursa, cuddling its warm, fuzzy body close to her own. Her gaze traveled down the road which stretched in both directions, houses lining up against its margins. She followed it with her eyes towards a hill in the distance, on top of which sat what looked like a quaint little farmhouse with a windmill, turning in the summer breeze. She breathed in the country air, catching whiff of a faint salt smell from an ocean in the distance. So this was Pallet Town.

...Why I didn’t actually name the file “Chasing Rainbows” - which was the title I had planned for this - I don’t know. This dates back to an old idea I had where I believed Molly Hale from the third Pokémon movie was secretly the true “God” of the Pokémon world - in the sense that the entire universe was an unknowing fantasy of her own creation, similar to Haruhi Suzumiya (ok fine this was totally a crossover/rip-off of the same concept so sue me OTL). In a place where children never seem to grow up and can go on grand fantastical adventures forever, Gary always struck me as an anomaly who willingly *chose* to forego such a life to pursue more “adult” interests by becoming a researcher. So I saw him as filling the role of “Kyon” - the cynical narrator who was destined to ground “God” and bring her back down to earth, but at the same time be won over by her innocence and charm and learn to appreciate “kids’ stuff” again. However, the Legendaries were actually aware of the power Molly holds, and so saw Gary as a threat to their very being - as by “waking” the dreamer and having her face reality meant erasing their kinds’ entire existence. As the “apocalypse” nearly occurred in the third film, Mew and Celebi took on human disguises (in the form of May and Max respectively) to investigate Ash, who was able to calm Molly and “save” the world by “perpetuating” the delusion (and whom Molly totally has a crush on btw *shot*). So it’s a bit of a love triangle lol, with Mew and Celebi (*cough* an alien and a time traveler, get it? *shot*) acting as mediators/interference. (Although Mew might’ve secretly shipped Gary and Molly herself. ;O)

Betrayal

And these blades, these damned scythes that attached themselves to my arms when I was born, a curse upon me since birth, though it had not been apparent up until now. They were covered with blood, the vital crimson liquid that flows through our bodies, now dripping down the steel surface in a webbed pattern, drops beginning to splatter the pure, emerald grass below. The arm felt heavy and weak as I tried to lift it, as if it did not belong to me, but that was only a wishful thought. I gazed calmly at it, inspecting the intricate designs the flow of the substance had created, as if it were an abstract piece of artwork. Tentatively, a pink tongue rolled out and caught a small droplet of it just before it fell from the sharp edge, just to convince myself that it was real. The semi-sweet, metallic taste confirmed this. I had indeed taken these men’s lives, just as I had taken hers.

So I remember this was written from the POV of a Scyther who seemingly went on a murderous rampage. I only know that I wanted to give him an “Edward Scissorhands”-like story, since the idea of having such sharp objects attached to one’s limbs so that one could never directly “touch” another without being a danger is pretty tragic. I suspect “her” was someone (a human?) he cared about but killed by accident, and after that he was only seen as a symbol of power/treated as a tool to incite fear before eventually rebelling against his “master”... Roses

“If you love someone, you should give them something that’s yours. That shows how much you care for them.” In the darkness, I pictured his smiling face, explaining to me as he wrapped a present for his girlfriend. His blue eyes were shining with a sort of spirit unfamiliar to me; I guessed, a feeling of love.

Another “dark” take on a Pokémon’s biology (I really liked writing explorations of those back then lol), this time of Roselia. The idea was that a Roselia was so in love with her trainer that she would do anything for him - including allow him to cut off her arms so he could give them to his girlfriend. I actually ended up turning it into a poem at one point:

Love is like a rose they say, And affection leads to grief they warned. For in the end love betrays, Its Beauty maimed by a poisoned thorn. You gave me pure water with a smile. Your cheerful face became my sun. I offered up my blood to you, And in return demanded none. Chop off my wrists, and tie them together. I’ll gladly bleed myself to death. In order to give you that which I hold most dear. My dear, my dear, Won’t you accept this bouquet? You take it, smiling warily. A blush creeps onto your face. And in those eyes I can see A garden of roses stretched out, Composing a wondrous place. Then you bound my hands in lace, And brought them to the girl next door. You presented them to her with grace. … My blood continued to pour.

Fanfic

She smiled at me, although something about her expression indicated something wasn't quite right. I watched as she glanced over towards the west, her gaze lingering momentarily on the setting sun. The glowing, orange sphere was slowly sinking behind the distant mountains, peaks cloaked in a pale, lavender haze illuminated by flickering beams of gold and scarlet cast across the horizon.

More accurately, I found this buried in a “catch-all” file where I had several (mostly finished) fics saved. This was meant to be from the POV of an Eevee who had just evolved - supposedly into an Espeon due to happiness and bond with her trainer, which is what both wanted. However, since it took place at sunset, she didn’t realize she had become an Umbreon instead, and her trainer ended up abandoning her for it. ;( It was a warm

Children’s shrieks and laughter echoed across the park as they flocked towards each other, and soon were chasing one another round the playground, weaving in and out between the swings as they partook in an innocent game of Tag. One child was It; she was trying desperately to catch one of her friends so that they would take over the job instead. Then it would be her turn to run away, for none of them wished to play the loathsome role of It. Or was it because they feared being tainted by the person’s touch? It must have been one of the two, for while she would struggle to reach them, catch hold of them, they would only flee, thoroughly enjoying the fact that they were vexing her. Twice she nearly caught one. Her fingertips were almost within reach of one of the other girls’ dresses, whose russet tresses were flowing wildly from the rush of movement and shining with golden highlights as the rays of the sun struck individual strands. The target shrieked and shook her head, whisking her skirt free in time to escape capture, laughing with glee at the sight of the girl left behind, miserable and alone.

Yeah I totally just went with the default beginning of the first sentence lol. I guess this comes full circle with the first Kagepro fic I mentioned (although I’m not even sure I was aware back then that the Japanese version of the game literally called “It” a “demon”, which is even more fitting). I believe this was part of a Pokémon series I was writing involving a creepy little girl and Mewtwo who would bring about the end of the world or something like that, but generally I guess I was just going for a “Catcher in the Rye” feel. *shrug* Golden Lights

The pale, rosy fingers of dawn were filtering in through the Granite Cave entrance, basking a small area near the opening in pinkish illumination. Just out of reach of its expanse sat little Mika, huddled in the gloom of the shadows, watching the light creep steadily towards her as the glowing ball of fire rose slowly towards the East. She knew about the Light that came from Outside. There were plenty other small apertures broken into the cavern walls and ceiling that allowed some thin streams of gold brilliance to trickle through. She had always done well to avoid them. The brightness was like poison to her skin. But they weren’t the Lights she’d had described to her by the old Crobat that always resided now deeper within the underground chambers, dozing now, most likely. He wouldn’t awaken until night came round, and she did not wish to rouse him and perhaps disturb him from a pleasant dream. She was very wise about things like that, being the young child that she was. Still, she would have liked to hear a story to comfort her just then.

Last one I could find, about a Sableye who, like Icarus, literally “flew too close to the sun”. In this interpretation I imagined that Sableye were creatures who could not stand sunlight at all, as it would cause their skin to burn. But Mika (pronounced like “Mica”) always dreamed of going outside to see the “Light” anyway. She was eventually tempted by Mew to leave the cavern under her angelic PROTECTion and step into the Light, who was acting as Ho-Oh’s messenger to “recruit” souls to “live eternal as an element of Ho-Oh’s Guarding Flame“, as the PROTECT faded and a “holy fire” began to spread. I guess I was going for a Biblical/”Rapture”-esque reference. (...Man I sure was obsessed with the endtimes as a kid. *shot*)

#Kagerou Project #Tateyama Ayano #Mekakushi Trio #Suzumiya Haruhi no Yuuutsu #ItsuHaru #ItsuYuki #Pokemon #Gary Oak #Molly Hale #fanfiction #starstories #astrologista #atsushishelteredinmoonlitjasmine #benditlikegumby #cryptoriawebb #ibmiller #iceperialprincess #otherwise uncolonized

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mintypothos · 7 years

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Sirens and Shipwrecks

@hubris-but-no-writing I was that anon about the mer fic a couple days ago

so this is what would have been the one shot, only I realized I wanted to do another part or two with it. But also I have this track record where when I tell any person at all that I’ll write something, it never gets finished. So in light of that, I decided to post what I do have in case the rest of this doesn’t pan out and gets stuck half finished. When/if I do finish my idea, I’ll clean it up and post properly on ao3. So this is, in every sense, a rough first draft.

Please read this fic’s main inspiration, The Human World; It’s a Mess by @hubris-but-no-writing It is excellent and features Burr as the merperson and the squad as humans

Also this is my first time writing a polyam ship (in this case, burr/revset or /squad or /revsquad, whatever you want to call it), even if it’s barely present here. Honestly i need more practice writing conversations between more than 2 people in general

other notes- merfolk have a perfect understanding of the english language and use the same distance measurements/body language and yet don’t know certain specific words or gestures because shhhhh

Aaron woke up to sand in his mouth. It took a moment for him to realize it wasn't figurative, for all that he was also feeling bone dry. Aaron coughed weakly, pitifully. Every inch of him felt boneless and raw.

“Wh-” He coughed again, choking on sand granules. Aaron pulled his body up and over his legs in an approximate kneel, though he felt heavier than lead. The movement shifted Aaron into piping hot sand that scalded, and he yelped. Then he winced- his voice came out weak and strangled, and it tore his throat just to make it.

“Oh, he sat up!” A foreign voice, crystal clear and completely unbothered, rang from somewhere behind him, and Aaron froze in shock.

“Humans sleep far too much.” Chimed another voice, followed by a splash and the slap of skin against skin.

“It's because he was hurt, we went over that already.” This one was deeper, but still strangely melodic and refreshing-a ringing church bell carried on an ocean breeze. Slowly, Aaron blinked his eyes open, immediately tearing up from both the sand burrowing between eyelids and the harsh light of the sun. Rubbing his eyes only made the problem worse, but he worked at it anyways, the incoherent light slowly separating into colours and shapes, then in sand, rocks, and trees.

“Wait what, he's awake!? Holy shit guys, shut up!” A fourth person, loud like the echoes of a conch horn. Aaron blinked again, turning his body to get a look at whoever was behind him. He should be more afraid, jumping up and defending himself the moment he knew he wasn't alone. But Aaron was very tired, and considered it a victory that he was even able to face the strangers. His skin pulled painfully as he readjusted himself, in a way that only awful sunburns ever could. “He's turning around, what do we do!?” The conch-shell voice again, sounding slightly familiar somehow.

Aaron blinked. In front of him now was a very picturesque beach, the white-blue waves frothing onto golden pale sand. The ocean stretched as far as Aaron could see, enveloping his entire field of view, save for the four figures half extended from the surf. All of them inhumanly handsome men, and all of them with looks of excited awe. The closest, with dark yet bright eyes and long, similarly deep coloured hair loosely tied back, lurched forward as Aaron met eyes with him. Had they met-?

A laugh, beautiful brass notes. Lovely words, not honeyed, but bright and curious- “Burr, put your fucking plugs back in, they lure veterans to their death, and you aren't even a sailor!”.

An indignant chiming, then annoyance, “Thomas, he's not trying anything, calm down. I'm wearing that stupid harness besides,”

Aaron winced again, feeling for his head and finding a painful lump, covered by a mass of wet seaweed somehow tangled around his head. That would explain why his brain seemed so muddled. He remembered- wait, what was the last thing he remembered?

“Is the human okay?” the first voice, belonging to a face framed by a storm of freckles and bushy hair, crowded just behind the vaguely familiar man. Aaron wondered why they kept saying 'human', like they weren't. Then another one of them, bigger and heavyset, pulled himself forward on his hands and what should have been his knees, only as he moved forward his backside disappeared into the sleek, powerful tail of a sea creature. The sight was shocking, but not as much as the sudden images it brought back to Aaron's mind.

“I've been yelling at you to change course all day- you stupid humans! I've been trying to help, and you dare to think I'd do this!?”

“Just- just don't let your little boat flip over, okay? I don't want you to sink when I finally found a human who will talk to me.”

The ground heaving up and down, wood slicked by rain water. Roiling waves reaching up to meet him- human flesh blending into fish under his tight grip and the salt water burning his throat. Thomas and James screaming for him as a rope snapped, the flip of a giant tail before another wave crashed down on him. “Aaron!”

“Whe-” Aaron coughed as he tried speaking again, but this time he could feel the words working, even if it did rasp painfully. “Where am I? Did- something happened to the ship..?” He still didn't have the full picture, but it was coming together. He remembered now the sailboat trip with Thomas and James, mainly that he hadn't even wanted to go, but they had insisted- Aaron had spent too much of the holiday holed away in the resort. “The other two I was with, are they alright?”

“I think so,” The one Aaron had somehow and at some previous point spoken too assured, his hands raised in placation. “You were thrown off the boat and by the time I got you, I couldn't get you back to it again. It was a bad storm, but probably not bad enough to sink a ship of that size. If only you could have kept your feet on it, though.” The information made sense, fitting into what little Aaron could piece together. “By the way, do you remember me? We spent the day learning about each other's species. It looks like you kind of do, but also like you don't quite? But you aren't freaking out about the tail thing like you did when we first met..”

The chatter certainly rang a bell, Aaron realized, even as he sagged in relief at the possibility his friends were safe. Merfolk, a fantastical and extremely elusive race that very few humans ever saw, and of course one shows up on his very first voyage just to fire off a thousand questions when Aaron didn't immediately pop in his spelled earplugs.

“I remember pieces, but not a lot”, Aaron admitted. Mere fragments, especially considering his usually excellent memory.

“That's okay. We met yesterday. I brought you to the only piece of land nearby, and Herc helped patch you up, or at least your head.”

The bigger Mer nodded at that, and scooted forward again. “I set that wrap at least six hours ago, I could check it for you again?”

Aaron realized with sudden clarity that the seaweed was a wrapped bandage around his injury, not a random tangle, and immediately he brought both hands up to feel. It was pulled tight, professionally, and neatly knotted at one end. Instinctively, he tugged. “Hey- don't do that!” A tail slapped against the shallow water, startling Aaron. “You don't want to jostle that and lose the poultice John made, you need it to heal.”

Instinctively, that made Aaron peer at the remaining mer, for one of them should be this John. Sure enough, the freckled one dipped his head, almost shyly. “It was a rush job, but I used my best ingredients.” He gave as explanation as Aaron stared.

“Thank you.” Aaron said, to be polite but also out of genuine gratefulness. Consciously, he brought his hands back down so as not to disturb the dressing. He let them fall, fidgeting as his palms came into contact with more fresh sand, uncomfortably warm from contact with the sun that hadn't been shaded by his unconscious body. “Would any of you happen to know where I could get some freshwater? And, if it's no trouble, the nearest human settlement?” He needed to get out of the sun, too. Hell, maybe he could just pass out under those trees and find civilization later, Aaron wasn't even certain if he could stand, never mind walk however many miles away the nearest harbour was.

His question was met with four incredulous stares.

“What is freshwater?” John, the freckled one queried with an honest air of confusion, like Aaron had asked for the magic-force unification equation. Maybe it was a stupid question, Merfolk probably filtered the water they needed as all ocean species did. Simply looking human-like said little about their biology.

“Oh, new human friend, you would leave us so quickly?” The Mer that hadn't spoken directly to Aaron yet, tight curls bound even tighter behind his head, crawled closer to him as well, the last to leave the relative safety of deeper water. Audaciously, he pulled himself entirely out of the water, shimmying over the hot sand beside Aaron. This close up, Aaron realized the mer was very long. Longer than the one who had bandaged his head, but much slighter of frame such that he didn't appear so big at first. He slowly blinked, fluttering his long eyelashes and smiling almost flirtatiously. “We have only just met.”

“Lafayette oh my god.” One of the others muttered under their breath. Aaron ignored it, more concerned about the 'oh wow, mermaids' factor now that one erased the barrier of space between them.

“Uhhm,” Aaron forced out. He should probably push the mer away? Or something? But there was something so beautiful, so ethereal that he almost felt incapable of touching. A hand carefully reached up to Aaron, with long, perfectly elegant and almost delicate fingers offset by the very non-human webbing between each digit. Each finger was topped by a cheerfully coloured yet deadly sharp claw. “I do not mean to offend, only that-” He cut himself off as the hand gently touched at Aaron's cheek. It was cold and wet, and should have been clammy but was instead soothing.

“My apologies, little one. Your eyes are just captivating. I have been waiting for them to open.”

Aaron felt dizzy. Now was not the time to be blushing like a schoolgirl, but his heart pounded regardless. “Um,” he said again, uselessly. “My name is Aaron Burr”, he corrected, just so he wouldn't say 'little one' again.

The mer infront of him lit up at the words, but the three still in the surf shifted excitedly as well. “I am honoured you trust me with your name, little Burr!” Why were they so pleased by a simple name? And furthermore, if having his name was 'an honour', why did he call Aaron 'little' again? The mer took his hand away from Aaron's face to prop under his own chin as he leaned further into the sand beside him. Aaron tried not to miss the comforting coolness. “My name is Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, though you may call me Lafayette.”

This, inexplicably, sparked annoyance throughout the group. “Asshole, I was going to give him my name first. I found him, you know” The familiar Mer pouted.

“You had your chance, Alexander.” Lafayette's smirk was wide and smug. “How can you expect me to resist a name-bond?”

“Name bond?” Aaron croaked out, baffled again.

“Do humans not know about it? I thought they all had magic, too?” The freckled one frowned. “If humans don't even have magic compatibility, that poultice won't work at all.” His frown deepened, and he started worrying his lip.

“No, we are.” Aaron interrupted the thought process. “There's not a lot of witches- people who use magic- but we're all compatible. All sentient creatures are..?” Aaron trailed off, uncertain. There were some confirmed fantastical species, and they all certainly were, but the field of magic study had never been well developed.

The freckled one brightened, like the sun had come back up again. “Yes, that's what we were hoping!” And then, he shot a sly look at the familiar one. “My name is John Laurens, at your service.”

The familiar one sputtered. The one who had bandaged him laughed, joining in. “I am Hercules Mulligan. Don't mind Alex, he's just jealous.” Lafayette, still beside him, chuckled at that, and Aaron skipped a beat, faltering at how beautiful the sound was and how close it was to his ear.

The familiar one huffed, impossibly blushing, and surged forwards out of the water as well. “Alexander Hamilton.” He flopped at Aaron's other side, holding a hand out in front of Aaron's nose. “This is how humans greet, right? I've observed that much.”

Hesitantly, Aaron shook the proffered hand. Alexander's grip was awkward and too strong, but the handshake was surprisingly natural for someone who had only ever seen it from a distance. The Mer focused laser-sharp on their hands, smiling brightly at Aaron when they released, only a few moments longer than Aaron was used to.

Of course, this caused the final two- Hercules and John- to approach as well, curious at the exchange. “Can I try shaking your hand, Aaron?”John gave a smile that felt sugar sweet, even if it made sharp teeth poke out from between his lips.

The attention was overwhelming, and Aaron reached for something to say. “So, why is ah, Lafayette's name so much longer? I mean, does he hail from somewhere else, or do all Mer names vary like that?”

Lafayette perked up at the mention, and opened his mouth to answer, when suddenly Aaron realized. “Wait, no, hold up. I asked where the nearest human settlement was. You distracted me.” He tried to glare at Lafayette, who paused in confusion, before closing his mouth in a slight grimace and glancing away from Aaron for the first time.

Aaron looked around, and the expression was mirrored on all of the mer. His chest filled with dread. “Hey, come on.” Tails shifted, fingers twiddled.

Finally, Alexander let out a short, loud breath before meeting Aaron's eyes with his own sheepish gaze. “This is our island. It was the only dry land I could get you to, your ship was already far from the human populated islands, and I don't even know exactly how to get to them either, because obviously we can't get to close to human shores anyways. I was just so afraid that you would drown, I don't know how much it takes to kill humans, and I would have brought you around the other side to the coves we use, but I had to get you to shore first, and then you weren't awake, and-!” He caught his breath, looking more guilty now than sheepish. “I'm sorry. There's no humans on this island. Please don't be mad.”

And so the other shoe falls, Aaron thought, his mind in shock. Objectively, he should immediately worry that this was all a ruse and he'd been abducted by Merfolk. Myth always said that they could control the waves and currents, and used their beautiful melodic voices to lure sailors. But Aaron also pride himself as a good judge of bullshit, and the person in front of him didn't appear to have a dishonest bone in his body. The expressions of awkward guilt from the others seemed very real as well.

Of course, abducted or not, he was still the only human apparently stuck on an uninhabited island. The dryness in his throat and the pain of his body seemed all the more pressing now. He may not be alone, but his companions were of a species that didn't even know what freshwater was. Finally, Aaron found the strength to attempt standing, pushing his legs down and under his center of gravity. It was every bit as difficult as Aaron imagined, his feet so weak and unsteady that he nearly toppled over several times on the way to standing fully.

“Wait, where are you going, please don't leave!” Alexander reached out to him, but didn't grab or pull. Aaron was thankful, he suspected that it would only take a light tap to knock him over.

“Stay with us, little Burr, those legs do not look like they will hold you.” The words should have been teasing, but there was a noticeable edge of concern. Aaron felt himself further crowded, the merfolk edging closer, looking at him like Aaron was a frightened, injured animal that they were trying to nurse. Perhaps that wasn't so inaccurate.

“I have to go further inland. My skin is burning up in the sun, and I need food and freshwater- not ocean water, it's too salty and only dehydrates humans more.”

“Oh, you meant landwater?”

“Well why didn't you say that earlier, we know what landwater is, there's a river just a few miles down that way.” John pointed helpfully to Aaron's right. “You'll have to go inland a bit to get to the landwater, but there is plenty of it. That's why we claimed this island in the first place, it's got enough waterways to explore all over.” He nodded, looking proud.

A few miles felt much too far in Aaron's mind, which was now starting to pound. But at least there was water to be had at all. Aaron supposed it was silly to assume they had no concept whatsoever of non-ocean water. He took a few steps, weak and short and painful. He attempted to go around Lafayette to the direction needed, but the Mer threw his hands out to block Aaron.

“No, please, let me carry you there, through the water. You look in pain.” Lafayette fluttered too-long eyelashes.

“I...” Aaron was again unsure of himself. “I don't need help. I can do it.” The pleading looks of his new companions spoke differently. Aaron should be firm about this, shouldn't he? He should be uncomfortable at the idea of letting a Mer drag him back into the water, especially when he was so weak.

“Aaron, please.” This time it was Hercules, reaching out to gently touch Aaron's shoulder. “Humans eat fish, right? How about I go catch some for you, while you let Lafayette take you up the river. He'll find some shade for you, and John can check that dressing.”

Aaron hesitated. Lafayette held a hand out, while John agreed loudly. “I'll go ahead and make a spot for you to rest!” Alexander said, clearly itching for something to do. “I've seen humans eat the insides of coconuts, I'll prepare some of those as well!” Four pairs of eyes stared beseechingly at him. He could only nod slightly, carefully clasping the hand held out to him.

This had to be the weirdest shipwrecking anyone had gone through.

#fic #sirens and shipwrecks #i have 5 pages of story notes and ideas and 5 pages of actual writing #sounds about right #hamilton #burr/everyone #burr/revset #burr/revsquad #i dont know whats the dominate name for the hamilton laurens mulligan lafayette quartet #seriously go read that other fic tho

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